


Alliance

by TheRedWulf



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Regency, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Jaimsa, Lannister Babies, Marriage of Convenience, OOC, Regency, Regency Romance, Romance, Scottish!Sansa, plot holes, regency au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-10 12:35:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19905811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedWulf/pseuds/TheRedWulf
Summary: AU - Regency - In which the heir to Casterly Rock makes an alliance with an unexpected bride...Picset is viewableHERE





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Jaimsa Regency (by popular request) who DOESN'T love it!? Definitely throwing canon out the window, and for sure NO twincest.  
> I don't know where I am going, but we're going. This shouldn't be too long. It is a one-shot that got out of hand. 
> 
> Picset is viewable [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/186459746866/alliance-regency-au-jaime-sansa-and-a-unique/)
> 
> I have maxed out the rating, for reasons.  
> This is unbeta'd so I apologize for any errors.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

He was watching her again. Trapped in haunted fascination as she stood proudly against every veiled insult and character assassination his hateful sister sent at her. She was impassive, aside from the sheen in her bright Tully blue eyes as she faced down the Queen Mother. 

“Of course, Your Grace” she gave a bow, her Scottish brogue just reaching him over the din of the _ton_ as she bowed and excused herself from the room. 

Lady Sansa Stark, daughter to the famed Highland traitor Laird Eddard Stark, had been sent to the Capitol as a peace offering amongst King Robert and his oldest friend Eddard Stark. While Stark had helped Robert to take the throne, the moment Robert learned that Eddard had hidden a child from him, a child born of Robert’s love Lyanna Stark and the man who had stolen her from Robert, Eddard had been deemed a traitor to the crown. He had been given an ultimatum, give King Robert the child for execution or his entire people would be destroyed. 

Story tells that before the Laird could make a decision Lady Sansa had offered herself in the child’s stead. She took the place of a toddler and was dragged to the capitol, a prisoner for the rest of her days. It was her beauty, Robert explained to court, that had saved her. He could not see cutting such a pretty head from such a lovely body. 

So in place of execution she was made the Queen’s personal lady in waiting-slash-whipping girl. 

He had noticed her the first time the year previous when he had returned from his commission in the Royal Army. Nearly twelve years his junior, her tall, striking beauty had been the first thing he noticed. Not his father’s hard stare or his sister’s drunken welcome, but Lady Sansa Stark. She was a wolf amongst lions, but a proud woman nonetheless. At least, upon first glance.

The second time he saw her she had been sewing in the library, something delicate for the Queen no doubt, sitting on the window seat in the early morning before the house awoke. In the bright light of early morning he could see the bruises in her wrist and arms, bared by her morning gown. Looking back to her face he saw that the face of consternation she wore was actually silent cries, tears running down her porcelain cheeks. 

Like him, she was trapped by society. A victim of expectation, politics and propriety. 

From the moment he had returned home from war, his father had done everything he could to get him to surrender his bachelor, rakehell ways. Bribe, threaten, plead, the Great Lion had done all he could think of to force his eldest son into a matrimonial fate. Jaime had steadfastly rebuffed them all. If he were to marry it would be on his terms. If not for love, surely a woman he could tolerate and not some simpering debutante. He wanted a wife with hot blood, fire and passion, and of late had settled only for mistresses. 

He watched as Lady Sansa moved from the parlor and turned town the hallway. Glancing at his surroundings, he faded from the room, following her as she walked quickly out into the gardens. A left turn here, a right there, he followed her to the gazebo in the center of the garden, her shoulders falling as she was out of sight from the summer palace. 

He watched as she raised trembling hands to her face, smothering the sobs that tore from her chest. She was stronger than he realized, stronger than anyone he could imaging. She had stood tall against years of ridicule and well-placed barbs; but an insult from an educated tongue cut just as deeply. 

He jumped slightly when she lashed out with one hand, punching the wooden post of the gazebo with surprising fury as she sank to the steps, talking softly to herself and breathing deeply. 

He made several mental notes, the gears in his head turning like Tarly’s steam machine he’d seen at the peninsula. There was something there, he mused. Something….

Sansa had made it to the gazebo before the first sob tore free, She tried to smother it, to smother her breath but she couldn’t stop it. Hot tears tore at her eyes, scalding her cheeks like the ‘traitors blood’ she was reminded she was and it made her furious. Today was her birthday, she was seventeen now which meant that she had spent 4 years in the service of Queen Cersei. 

Four years of enduring hell, insults, abuse and starvation. With a sob she lashed out, punching the gazebos post in an attempt to quell the pain in her heart. It didn’t help and now her hand hurt as she sank to the gazebo’s steps. She had thought when she had given herself for her 9 month old cousin Jon, that they would simply killed her and be done with it, but instead they have elected to torture her to death. 

She longed to escape, more than life itself she wished to be free of this place. She had grown into a woman here, a too-tall, too-thin woman with unfashionably red hair and love for books that made her nothing but fodder to the royals and members of the court. Books were an escape, she would never give them up. 

She had no means with which to travel back to Scotland and her only real education had been in how to be a lady. A lady’s maid perhaps, or a governess. If not, she steeled her spine, she would try the theatre or...she swallowed thickly--She could sing, but if that was not good enough she would become a man’s mistress, she would use the only weapon she had left. 

Mistresses, while hardly spoken of, were well kept, wealthy women who, as long as they kept their paramour happy, would live free of pain. She could do that, she could do anything to get away from here. It would be worth the shame to be free of the Baratheons. 

Wiping her eyes she stood, flexing her hand and ignoring the pain that lingered. The Queen would wonder where he tea was soon and she had to get back. Promising herself an escape, she went back into the house of horrors. 

Jaime found his target easily, finding her in the first place he looked. Once again she was in the library, this time asleep on the window seat, a book unfolded across her lap. She wore a pale yellow morning gown that was only a little too small and her riotous curls were piled atop her head to expose the smooth column of her throat. The morning light seemed to glow off of her skin and fiery hair, making her look like an angel. 

Desire coursed through him, renewing his resolve in what he was about to do. He ached to press kisses along her throat, her collar bone and the corner of her bowed mouth until she sighed his name. Yes, Lady Sansa had the fire he had so long sought but she hid it very, very well. 

He sank into the wingback chair facing the window seat, watching her as she slept. He crossed a long leg over the other, resting his ankle atop his opposite knee, hating how these chairs did not accommodate a tall man with a soldier’s build.

He must have made a noise because she stirred awake, the book falling to the floor with a ‘plop’ as she gasped, “My Lord” she looked at him with wide eyes. “Oh no” she glanced to the book. “I am so sorry, I know I am not supposed to touch them---”

“There is no apology necessary” he assured her, nearly smiling at how thick her brogue was upon waking. 

“I shouldn’t be here” she looked around nervously. 

“I am not going to tell the Queen, if that is what you’re worried about” he said his pale blonde hair falling across his forehead. Deftly he pushed it back, “I wished to have a word with you.”

“Me?” she flushed beautifully.

“Yes, you” he uncrossed his legs to lean closer. 

“If I offended you, My Lord, please forgive me” she said quickly, hands clasped as if in prayer. “I beg of you, I did not mean to---”

“Be at ease” he took her clasped hands in his own, her thin frame jumping at his touch. “You made no offense. I wanted to speak with you on an alliance of sorts.”

“Alliance” she repeated, eyes narrowing. 

“Yes, I believe we can be of mutual assistance to each other” he still gently held her trembling hands in his own, his thumb stroking across the knuckles. “Am I wrong in assuming that you want nothing more than to escape this place?”

“My Lord, the Queen is kind and--”

“Stop” he shook his head. “I saw you at the gazebo during the last party, I know you’re unhappy Lady Sansa.”

Her body seemed to deflate, “Utterly miserable, My Lord.”

“Then I would reason you would very much like to get away from here, even if it meant attaching yourself to me?” his deep, soothing voice stated and she felt her stomach bundle with nerves. She had just decided last week that she could become a man’s mistress, if only to escape. Granted she hadn’t imagined the man would be Lord Jaime Lannister, a Captain in the Royal Army and Heir to the Dukedom of Casterly Rock. 

Stories of both his bravery and rakish ways had spread through the _ton_ like wildfire since she arrived. He was strong, handsome and brave, the Great Lion’s oldest son and heir. She had thought him quite handsome the first time she saw him, clad in his Army reds with his saber at his side and a stray lock of golden hair over his forehead. She nearly sighed but then she remembered he was a Lannister, and the Queen’s twin, he would only be like the rest of them. 

She knew he would soon have to wed, duty would demand it of him if the Great Lion wasn’t already, so perhaps her time as his mistress would be short and then she could go home. 

Proceeding cautiously she spoke, “Attach myself to you?”

He nodded, “Something that would keep both of us from fates worse than death” he smiled and she felt the impact of it low in her belly. 

“I understand, My Lord” she gave a slow nod, feeling her cheeks heat once more. She suddenly found herself imagining what his touch would be like, would his hands be rough from war? Would he--she internally shook herself and met his emerald gaze once more. “I understand and I find that most agreeable.”

To her surprise he laughed, the deep throaty sound filling the empty library, “I never thought I would propose to a woman who found it ‘agreeable’,” he shook his head. 

“Propose----Marriage?!” at this she did remove her hands from his, rising to her full height and pacing to the fireplace. “No, My Lord, you cannot marry me.”

“Cannot?” he watched her closely, moving to stand beside the fireplace and close to her. “A moment ago you agreed---wait what did you think I was suggesting, Lady Stark?”

“That I would be your mistress, of course” she flushed. 

He laughed once more, holding his stomach, “Now that simply cannot be” he stalked closer, his long leonin frame crowding hers. “I want you as my wife, not my mistress! Good Gods you would have become my mistress? Gods you must be truly miserable here.”

She hung her head, “I hate every second of every day I have spent here,” she said softly, watching the flames. “But the truth of it is, I am not your equal. My father was a traitor and I am merely a prisoner. And you, you are the son of the most powerful Duke in the realm. A hero. A rake. You would be better served to marry elsewhere.”

“And if I set aside my rakish ways?” he countered smoothly, reaching out to touch an errant curl that hung over her shoulder. “My title demands that I marry and produce legitimate heirs. You are the only woman I have encountered that does not have me bored to tears. I have seen your strength and I admire it. Not only are you beautiful, but strong and well spoken” he reasoned as if he were describing a treaty. “I would promise to set aside rakish pursuits and honor my marriage vows, if we were to marry and have a _true_ marriage.”

“You would marry beneath yourself merely to have a beautiful bride?” she asked plainly. 

“No” he chuckled. “Though I do have a selfish desire to enjoy my wife in and out of the bedroom. I seek to live in peace with a woman my equal in mind. I would not tolerate being saddled with a shallow, society wife. I’ve watched you, Lady Sansa, and I quite like what I see.”

“You are a very odd sort of man” she said quietly. 

“So I have been told,” he replied. “I’d take you away from here. We could escape. You would soon be a Duchess and their cruelty would be far behind you.” 

“You dangle very tempting bait” she sighed, searching his eyes for any sign of warmth or kindness. To her surprise, she found both. 

“I learned in the Army to prepare for every battle and fight as if you mean to win” he stated. 

“My Lord--”

“Say yes” he encouraged her. “Be my wife? Run away with me, far from this place.”

She took a deep breath, weighing her options and what she had learned over the years about Jaime Lannister. He was a good man, brave and had never spoken cruelly where she could hear him. He was offering escape, a life free of pain...she squared her shoulders and met his gaze. “Yes, I will marry you.”

“I am going to kiss you” he warned her a second before he cupped her cheeks and his lips descended to hers in a gentle touch that rocketed through her. 

If he had ever felt such lust course through him at a simple kiss, he could not recall it. Her full lips were soft, sweet and when he parted them with his tongue she tasted of lemon and something inherently ‘feminine’. She sighed, her hands coming to rest against his chest, a sign of her surrender that gave him confidence to deepen their kiss. 

Using his persuasive tongue to delve deeper into her mouth he soon found her arms moving around his shoulder, her unique height making it easier to kiss her with adore. Emboldened he ran his hands to her shoulders, skating past the curves of her breasts, across her back and finally to possessively take hold of her buttocks, hauling her against him. While she was tall, she was no match for his Lannister height and he lifted her against his broad frame. 

He knew he was moving quickly, but Gods he felt out of control, lost with lust for this fiery woman. To his surprise and delight she met him at every step, thought unskilled her instincts were strong, her lower body rocking against the hard length of him through their clothing, moaning against his mouth as his hand flexed around the flesh of her bottom.

He turned her to press her back to the wall beside the fireplace when the door to the library opened and a familiar shrill voice echoed around them. He set Sansa back on her feet and faced his sister with a bored expression. 

“How dare you! You little Highland whore!” Cersei screamed at Sansa. “Scheming Scottish Slut!”

Jaime frowned deeply, “You would do well to watch your tongue sister” he spoke. 

“I will do no such---”

“You shall or you will be publicly shunned by both me and my wife” Jaime interrupted her. 

“You’re marrying her? The traitor? No---” Cersei screeched. 

“I am going to marry Lady Sansa” Jaime pulled his betrothed’s frame closer to his own. “Father has instructed I find a bride of noble blood. I have found her.”

In that moment, Lord Tywin and King Robert arrived, having heard Cersei’s screams, and all hell broke loose. 

“What were you thinking, Jaime?” Tywin asked him without hesitation as soon as they were alone in his office. 

“You told me to wed” Jaime replied smoothly. “A woman born to an old house with good blood. I chose Sansa Stark.”

“She is a traitor---”

“She gave her life for that of a babe less than a year old” Jaime interrupted his father. “And Cersei doesn’t nothing but abuse her for her sacrifice. Would you have handed a babe over to be killed?”

“I certainly wouldn’t have let a woman make the choice for me” Tywin countered, pouring himself two fingers of whisky. “Have you fucked her? Taken her maidenhead?”

“Yes” Jaime lied. 

“You’re lying” Tywin didn’t even look at him as he sipped his drink. “Want her that badly then, I take it.”

“I will not be saddled with a woman like Lady Margaery who cannot even count to ten without taking her slippers off” Jaime spat. “If you’re going to send me to the Rock I would at least like to enjoy my wife.”

“Judging by the scene in the library you will enjoy her very much” Tywin emptied his glass. “Fine, you will have your way Jaime, on the condition that you put a son in her, quickly. I will arrange a special license and then you two will go to the Rock where you will do your duty until she gives you sons, many sons. Laird Stark still hasn’t settled his fury in the Highlands and perhaps it will knock him into place.”

“Perhaps Robert shouldn’t have enslaved Stark’s daughter,” Jaime said. “I have fought enough battles to know that enraging your enemy doesn’t help.”

“Perhaps we’ll make a Duke of you yet” Tywin eyed him. “Sons, Jaime. You need sons.”

“Then let me marry her quickly and get her out of Cersei’s control” Jaime asked. 

“Done. Two weeks. Long enough to read the banns” Tywin dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “I expect a grandson within the year.”


	2. Part 2

It was a small wedding. Sansa had no friends or family in town and only a few of Jaime’s comrades from the army were there to support him. During the ceremony she felt the Great Lion’s hard eyes on her, warning and judging her. She felt decidedly less than worthy under his stare. 

Jaime wore his Army uniform, covered with enough medals to make the jacket look impossibly heavy, and a sinister looking saber at his side. His hair had been trimmed, but still held its golden beauty and she was glad to see he hadn’t shaved. She found she rather liked the scruff of his beard.

In no time at all they were pronounced wed and Jaime was leaning down to kiss her briefly, his lips lingering on hers. When he did pull back she looked up to see the heat in his green eyes, a predatorial glint that made her stomach flutter. 

While she doubted that Jaime Lannister would ever love her, there was no mistaking that he wanted her. She had felt it in the library and she could see it in her husband’s eyes now. 

Offering his arm, he lead her out of the small church and to a waiting hansom that would take them back to the Lannister town home for their wedding dinner. That, she was not looking forward to. A dinner with the Lannisters and Baratheons, it sounded like a nightmare. 

“You look about as thrilled as I feel about this dinner” her husband noted with a grin. 

“Can we not….not?” she asked.

“If only” he took her hand gently, entwining their gloved fingers. “We’ll stick together, and when Robert is drunk, as he inevitably will be, we duck out. I can’t tolerate my good-brother any more than you can.”

“I doubt that” she grimaced, looking out the carriage window as the city whirled by. 

“You are Lady Lannister now” he reminded her. “You are my wife and if they cannot see that, then we leave.” 

“Alright” she nodded, glancing at his handsome profile as they rode down the street. 

Jaime watched his wife out of the corner of his eye, her back ramrod straight and her expression ill at ease as they ate dinner with the Lannisters and Baratheons. She looked beautiful in her pale ivory gown, one that actually fit her. The moment their engagement had been announced he had taken her to the seamstress to have any gowns she would need made. The ones that Cersei had forced her to wear were too small and too short. 

Now, in a gown befitting her station, she looked stunning. Her hair was a riot of curls, piled atop her head with a ribbon of flowers entwined in the rich auburn curls. Amidst the riot was a thistle, the odd purple bloom resting in a curl. A proud lass, he couldn’t help but admire the courage it had taken to include that in her wedding flowers. 

He couldn’t wait to get her away from the city, away from the _ton_ and see the true woman that was Sansa Stark. He knew her to be beautiful, strong and proud, he couldn’t wait to see what else he could discover about his wife. He also couldn’t wait to take her to bed. He’d felt her passion that day in the library and he couldn’t wait to make her his wife in truth. 

Robert was already on his way to drunk and Cersei looked as if she was surrounded by rotten eggs, but his father was surprisingly pleasant. 

“Lady Lannister” Robert chuckled to himself. “What a waste of a beautiful Stark woman.”

“Robert---” Cersei chided as Jaime felt Sansa stiffen beside him.

“I would ask, Your Grace” Jaime said coolly. “That you speak respectfully of my wife.”

“Your wife is too beautiful for you” Robert belched. “The hero of the Peninsula” he shook his head. “How many of your men died, Lannister?”

“Enough to know that I am done fighting wars for men who waste power” Jaime glared. 

“So you travel to the Rock tomorrow, yes?” Tyrion broke the tension from beside their father, drinking deeply of his own cup. 

“Yes.”

“I should think you will like our family seat, Lady Lannister” Tywin said to Sansa with a smile. “It is surrounded by rolling hills and a lovely lake. You will no longer be stuck in the city.”

“I look forward to seeing it, My Lord” Sansa nodded politely beside him, her features impassable. He watched her and every time Robert belched she cringed, if slightly. Her dislike of the king was obvious for those who sought to see it. In truth he was of the same thought. Cersei had wanted to be Queen badly enough to marry this boar, he could hardly believe his sister was this power hungry. 

Robert only had the throne because of Laird Stark and Robert’s own brother Lord Stannis Baratheon. Their keen military minds had won him a throne he now seemed to waste away. 

Jaime bided his time, and the moment he was able to he stood, offering Sansa his hand, “My Lady” he smiled down at her as she gratefully took his hand. “I will bid you all farewell” he nodded to his family, looking to his father with a knowing look. “If you need us, we will be at the Rock” he looped her arm around his and escorted his wife out of the most awkward dinner of his life.

“Are you well?” the deep voice of her husband sounded behind her as his arms wound around her. 

Husband. Jaime Lannister, heir to Casterly Rock was her husband. A concept she still found hard to believe. They now found themselves in a posh hotel where they would spend their wedding night. Tomorrow they would escape this city and go to the Rock. Freedom, she smiled to herself. 

“I am well” she assured him as he kissed the curve of her throat. For a man of a prim society he made no secret of his desire for her. “I am free.”

“Free for now” he smiled against her skin. “I mean to take you and chain you to myself forever” he guided her back against his chest, hands trailing over the robe she had donned after the maid helped her with her dress and stays. 

“A delightful sort of prison then” she mused, leaning into his touch. 

“A prison of the best sort” he promised, turning her in his embrace. She saw then that he had discarded his jacket and waistcoat, standing before her in only a linen shirt and his black breeches. Even his polished hessians had been discarded and he was barefoot. It was odd to see him thus, the great Young Lion in barefoot in their room. 

“My Lord---”

“Jaime” he corrected her. “I would have my wife call me by my given name, as I would call her by hers.”

“Jaime” she reached a hand up to touch his shirt and the hard planes of muscle underneath. Her husband had spent many years at war and his body reflected that. 

“Sansa” he smiled, running his hands through the heavy length of her unbound hair. “Together, we’ll be free.”

“Together” she echoed. “All I ask is that you’re always honest with me and don’t...” she paused to meet his gaze. “Don’t hurt me…”

“I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, to protect you,” he promised. “The first time, tonight, there will be pain but I will do all that I can to help that.” 

“I understand” she gave a nod. 

“Come” he meant to guide her to the bed but she stopped him. 

“Wait” she protested. “First would you ...would you kiss me as you did in the library?”

“Every day for the rest of our lives” he promised and guided her instead into his arms, taking her lips in a deep, claiming kiss. She clung to his strength, to the promise of his protection as he kissed her. She was afraid of what tonight held, but she knew that Jaime had fought to marry her, fought for both of them to be free of the demands of those around him. 

She had prayed for so long for escape, for help and to be home. But instead she found her rescuer gave her the protection of his name, of his family’s power and removed her from those who would hurt her. She was afraid that there was a catch, truly her husband hadn’t come into her life, married her and protected her from the King’s crude comments for no reason. She hoped that if there was a catch to this new life, that she would be able to bear it. To be away from the city, she could almost bear anything. After all, Casterly Rock was only a few days from Scotland, perhaps one day she would see her family again. 

Focusing on her husband’s touch she relaxed against the hard length of his body, running her hands up his chest to his strong shoulders and then allowing fingers to tangle into his golden hair. In turn, his hands traveled her body, deftly untying the robe to open it, his hands running across the bare skin of her body. 

“You’re beautiful” he whispered, dark green eyes roaming over her body. She felt her cheeks heat at being so exposed in front of him, but smiled up at him regardless. She felt the thrum in her soul, every nerve firing and every piece of her being focused on this man. Her husband. Her lion. 

She felt him guiding her and when the back of her legs met the bed he pulled back to move her robe away and discard his shirt. She marvelled at the muscles of his chest, coated with a light dusting of golden hair that trailed down to his waist. She had seen the statues of men in the museum, but none looked like Jaime, all broad shoulders and strength pouring off of him. Her eyes went to his left shoulder and a puckered scar there. It was several inches long and looked painful. 

“The Peninsula” he said softly. “A reminder.” 

She saw the sadness in his eyes, the clench of his jaw and remembered his words to Robert at the dinner table. He had survived war, as she had survived imprisonment. Perhaps they were both scarred by their experiences. Leaning forward she gently kissed the scar, the sensation of his chest hair tickling her making her smile. 

At her kiss, she felt his hands at her waist, lifting her easily he lay her across the counterpane. He followed, laying beside her to run his hand over her body. She should have been afraid, but his eyes held no harsh lust or malice, just desire and warmth. 

“Jaime” she gasped softly as he ran his fingers across her nipples, fire spreading through her to settle low in her belly. 

“Gods” he marvelled, leaning forward to trail kisses in the wake of his fingers, pulling a nipple into the warmth of his mouth. She arched against him, her body out of her control as he teased her. “My wife” he kissed the curve of her breast, trailing to the other nipple to give it the same treatment. “So responsive.” 

“Jaime” she panted as he trailed a hand between her legs to part her folds. “Jaime!” 

Jaime had been with women before. Hells he was 31 and survived the two bloodiest wars in kingdom history, he was no saint. But no woman had ever given such an earnest, breathless reaction to his touch. This woman, who he suspected held passion beneath her facade, was already drenched for him, her porcelain skin flushed with desire. 

Kissing his way across her body he toyed with her with his fingers, circling her bundle of nerves, rubbing it and delighting in every single pant and cry he could wring from her body. Suckling a jeweled nipple once more, he watched her as her eyes fluttered shut, head lolling back into the curtain of her fiery hair and couldn’t help but feel like a god among men. 

“Jaime” she sighed his name, her slender fingers finding their way to his hair as she gasped. 

“Wife” he trailed down her body to the fiery curls at the apex of her thighs. She cried out as he parted her thighs to lap at her. Though she was already soaked and ready for him, he promised he would do all he could to make tonight, her first time, easier. Her hand tightened in his hair, pulling at the locks as he feasted on her core. 

Soon she was writhing beneath him, muttering something in a language he didn’t understand, Gaelic he assumed, as she shook. 

“Jaime” she purred, her brogue thicker than he’d ever heard it as she prayed his name. 

He felt a surge of pride, knowing that he would be the only make to hear her this way, to see her, taste her and feel her this way. He had found a gem amongst the rubble and he couldn’t wait to awaken her inner goddess. 

Circling her once more with his tongue she fell over the edge, her cries gasping as she clutched the blankets and his hair. As she came down she was muttering softly in Gaelic once more, making him smile as he crawled up her body. 

He pushed his breeches and small clothes away, finding his way between her thighs before taking her lax lips with his own. It didn’t take her long to respond, kissing him deeply as she wound her arms around his shoulders. 

He guided himself to her core, soaking the tip in her juices before aligning himself and moving forward. 

“Oh” she gasped at the intrusion. 

“I am sorry” he whispered against her mouth, moving forward once more. He felt the barrier of her maidenhead holding him back. With a flex of his hips it was gone, breaking away and he sank fully into her. She cried out in pain, tensing beneath him as her nails dug into his shoulders. “It’s done” he assured her and she gave a small nod, breathing deeply. “You’re my wife now, in all ways, Sansa, mine.”

“It hurts” she said weakly. 

“Breathe” he whispered. “Try to relax.” He felt her trying her best, her breaths deep under him. After several long moments he withdrew a bit before sinking back into her heat. 

“Jaime” she panted, her grip relaxing on his shoulders. 

He didn’t reply, merely claimed her lips, kissing her deeply as he slowly moved within her. She felt do damned good; soaked and hot he was damned close already. The legendary Lannister lover he had strived to be came crumbling down at the feel of her body around him. 

He kept his movements slow, shallow until he felt her body begin to relax then he guided her legs around him and moved deeper, allowing his length to surge in and out of her. He watched her beneath him, watched as her pain began to fade and then she was panting softly once more as he took her. There was no way he was going to last long enough to make her peak once more, but he was glad to see that soon his wild Scottish lass would soon escape her facade. 

“Husband” she looked up at him, mumbling softly in Gaelic. 

“Fuck” he felt his release crest and take him. He filled his wife with jet after jet of seed, panting heavily above her as he lost control. 

Sansa felt him pulse, fill her as his emerald eyes turned black with desire. A moment later he was collapsing beside her, breathing heavily. He was a beautiful man, her husband, all golden hair and honed muscle. 

It had hurt, she winced slightly as she felt how sticky her thighs were, but he had brought her the most exquisite pleasure before. Perhaps that was possible again now that the initial breaking of her maidenhead was over. 

She was a maiden no more, but a woman wedded and bedded, Lady Sansa Lannister. It was almost too surreal to believe. She admired her husbands nude form as he moved to the pitcher, grabbing a washcloth to dampen it before moving back to her. 

“Open” he said and she parted her legs, hissing as he used the washcloth to clean her core. She saw the blood stain upon it when he moved away, cleaning himself off as he returned it to the sideboard. “Come” he helped her beneath the blankets before pulling her to his side and covering them. “Tomorrow we’ll travel to the Rock” he held her close. “And together we’ll be free of this city,” he promised. She relaxed against him and felt sleep take her, feeling hopeful for the first time in a very long time.


	3. Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you ALL!! I am so glad you're loving this so far!
> 
> We've reached the point in the fic where I make up shit when it comes to Scottish Gaelic. I translate as best I can but...#fakeittillyoumakeit

Sansa watched the forest as it went by, the deep green of the foliage making her smile. It reminded her of home and she already felt happier than she had in a very long time. They were on the way to the Rock, finally leaving the Baratheons behind.

The weight of a hand on hers reminded her that she was traveling beside her husband, her true husband. Their alliance was not one in name only, he had claimed her as his true wife. Looking to her right she admired the strength of his jaw and sharp nose, a more handsome man she had not seen, that was undeniable. The cut of his jacket was fine, showing off broad planes and unbidden her mind conjured the image of his naked chest. She felt her cheeks heat at the memory of last night, a smile reaching her lips that she hid by turning back to the window. 

She had never expected that the duties of the marriage bed would have been anything like last night had been. Though, perhaps, women and septas taught girls to fear it to keep them pure because if women knew of the pleasure they would surely chase it themselves. The sinful sight of his golden head between her legs, the pleasure he had brought her was unlike anything she had experienced. Yes there had been pain, but watching him fall apart above her, feeling every inch of him had been intoxicating. She’d felt powerful… beautiful.

There would be no more pain he assured her and she found herself anxious to learn at his hand. He was experienced obviously, men were not discouraged from such premarital connections, for which she was oddly grateful. He knew to give her pleasure, to make her body burn for his and take her as gently as possible.

She wondered what awaited them at the Rock. There would she find the catch in this deal? Another wife perhaps? Hidden away in the attic, she smiled to herself and pushed the thought away, the Great Lion would never allow it. A mistress maybe, or hidden children? No, she looked to her husband once more. He was too honorable for that, she believed. 

No they had made an alliance, made allies of each other in this world torn by rebellions, gossip and schemes. She would trust him until he gave her a reason not to, she decided. And if she found she could not, she could steal a horse and ride to Scotland from here. 

Closing her eyes she allowed the fresh air to waft over her as she sank into the bliss of freedom. 

The ride to Casterly Rock was fortunately uneventful, and as they rode into the evening Jaime found his wife asleep beside him, her head cushioned on his shoulder. He had dressed in gentlemen’s arrite, grateful to be rid of the dress uniform he’d worn the day before. Her gown of soft blue looked diaphanous compared to his plain tan breeches, ivory waistcoat and blue jacket. 

He had woken this morning with a start, glancing around him unfamiliar surroundings until his eyes found the wave of fire that lay across his chest. Then it had all come rushing back to him, his wedding, his wife and their incredible wedding night. Perhaps more incredible for him than for her, but there were no tears so he felt he had done right by her as best he could. Him, however, he hadn’t come that hard in years, losing control like a green boy the second her body gripped his. 

Before he took her he had nearly drown in her lust, her body eager and responsive to his touch. His lass would be wild, he could feel it. He couldn’t wait to have her to himself at the Rock; they would take pleasure in their duties, of that he was certain. 

They had stopped only at midday to eat and water the horses at a small inn along the road. He had helped her from the carriage, watching her smile as she took in the trees surrounding them. 

_“No more city” she’d said softly._

_“No, no more city” he placed her hand on his arm to lead her inside._

“Welcome home, My---oh” the butler, Addam greeted them as they arrived at Casterly Rock late that evening. 

“Ssh” Jaime warned him, motioning to the sleeping woman at his side. “I will carry her” he handed the butler his hat and gloves before turning back to lift his wife into his arms. Addam had already sent the others to unload their trunks and was moving alongside him as he carried Sansa’s sleeping form into the house. Sansa had sleepily wrapped her arms around his neck, content to be in his care. 

“I fear we do not have your Lady’s chambers fully ready yet, My Lord. They have been shut up for quite sometime and---” Addam frowned. 

“That is fine, she will be sharing my chambers” he informed the butler. “This is not a marriage of misguided convenience, nor has she been forced on me by the Great Lion. We chose each other and I mean to have her at my side. Always.”

“V-very good, My Lord” Addam hid his shock well. It was no secret most society marriages were based on procreation and veiled tolerance of one’s spouse. The fact that the Great Lion had married for love had shaken society back in his father’s day. It did not escape him that the staff would likely think that they were newlyweds in love; let them think it, he decided, it would give them their privacy. 

When Jaime reached the top of the stairs and turned left for his normal chambers the butler cleared his throat. “What is it?” Jaime asked. 

“The Duke informed us that we should prepare the master’s chambers for you, My Lord” Addam informed him, motioning down the hall to the bedroom his parents had once shared. 

“I see” he moved toward the open door, swallowing thickly at the weight he felt settle upon his shoulders. Sons, his father had said. Do your duty, he instructed him and as a show of faith the Great Lion had given him the master’s chambers of Casterly Rock. 

“I will have a maid come to help her ladyship” Addam commented. 

“No need, I will help her” Jaime said as he entered the opulent room and lay Sansa on the bed. “I know it is late, so send the house to sleep. We shall require a bath and tray in the morning and I will make introductions after that.”

“Of course, My Lord” the man bowed and excused himself from the room, pulling the door shut behind him. 

Jaime discarded his boots, jacket and waistcoat before moving back to help Sansa, who was now sitting up, yawning softly. 

“I will help you,” he moved to her side. 

“How long was I asleep?” she asked sleepily as she unpinned her hair, her brogue thick, reminding him of the morning he found her in the library. 

“A few hours” he helped her stand so he could unbutton her spencer, setting it aside with his coat. She turned away so he could unlace her, his efficient moves slowing as the blue fabric parted and more of her skin came into view. 

“Jaime” she whispered as his fingers ghosted across the bare skin of her shoulders. 

“Hmm?” he replied. 

“You are a terrible ladies maid, husband” she smiled over her shoulder at him as he refocused on her laces and freed her from the dress and stays. 

“I suppose I shall have to find other work then” he helped her to step out of her dress, moving away to lay it with their coats. He turned back as she lifted her shift over her head and shimmied from her small clothes, laying them on the bed, leaving her only in pale stockings and garters tied at the thighs. “Gods…”

“I’m sorry…” she blushed turning to face her husband. “Did you not mean to…”

“I confess, I did not” he smirked at her, his eyes drinking in every inch of bare porcelain skin the firelight. “But I damned well intend to now” he stalked toward her, like the lion he was, discarding his shirt before lowering his lips to hers. 

Sansa felt his kiss throughout her whole body, her feet suddenly pinned to the floor as he hauled her against his bare chest. While she had been asleep moments ago, everything in her body seemed to wide awake now, everything focused on the man in her arms. His lips devoured hers, drinking greedily from her as he ran a hand over her bare flesh. 

She dug her hands into his golden hair, doing her best to mirror her husband’s actions. Before the library she had never been kissed before (though Gods know the king tried his best) and found she enjoyed kissing her husband. His strong hands gripped her hips, moving her to the rather gaudy bed and the red counterpane. She broke their kiss to lay back on the bed and he crawled over her, having discarded the last of his clothing. 

“You are beautiful” he murmured, kissing her shoulder and between her breasts. “You may be sore” he said against her skin as he found his way to her core once more. She gasped as his tongue met her sensitive flesh, tasting and lapping at her in lazy movements. Had anything ever felt so lovely, she thought as he raised a hand to tease her breasts as he worked. 

“Jaime” she ran her hand through his hair, the silken locks trailing through her fingers. She felt her body shake and tense, but before she could peak he pulled back. She couldn’t help but whimper at the loss. 

“I am a selfish man” he said huskily. “I would have you come around me this time” he growled, moving between her legs. This time when he slid inside her she didn’t feel any pain, only a slight ache at the stretch, her body soon accommodating his length with a sigh. “Fuck” he swore softly, leaning down to kiss her as his hips rocked. She could taste herself on him along with the taste that was uniquely her husband. He braced on an elbow above her, his strength evident with each movement and she took hold of the bicep beside her head as his other hand raised her leg, sliding sinfully over her stockings, holding her open to move deeper. 

“Jaime” she gasped, feeling him not truly moving within her. He had been gentle, cautious last night, hardly taking her but now she clung to his strength as he filled her over and over. “Jaime…”

“Aye, wife” he groaned against her lips. “My wife…”

“Aye” her head lolled back and he kissed along her throat, the hand on her thigh traveling between them. He used his fingers to tease her, moving in time with his hips until she was gasping and clinging to his arm. 

“Let it take you” he whispered against her jaw. “Come for me and I’ll fill you, wife” his sinful words in that lovely deep voice combined with his fingers and cock sent her over the edge. She screamed out, bowing from the bed as her body clenched around her husband’s. She felt it echo through her, from her fingers to her scalp as her core flexed around him and it was so much more fulfilling to peak around him, feeling so incredibly full. She barely registered his growl as he slid deeply, tilting her hips to take him fully as he poured into her. “Fuck” he panted, trying to catch his breath. 

“Husband” she moved to his side as he rolled away, feeling chilled as his body heat moved from atop her. “Is it always like this..”

“No” he kissed her softly. “I think this is uniquely us” he told her and he wasn’t lying. He couldn’t feel his body, panting with exertion as he came down from his high. The way she had felt, coming around him, was more than he could bear. Nothing about her reactions to him were false or enhanced, no his lady wife truly enjoyed every second of their marital bed this night. 

He covered them with the blankets and held her as sleep took her once more. He lay awake for a time, watching as the firelight died in the room and soon it was dark. He had married the most beautiful woman in his acquaintance, escaped the city and found she was as hot-blooded as he was. His father had readily agreed to the match, wanting more Lannister sons and not blinking at her heritage. He then sent him to be the master of the Rock. There had to be a catch, he thought, at some point the other shoe would drop. 

He glanced to his wife beside him. What ever happened, they would handle it together he decided as he fell into an exhausted slumber. 

_A Fortnight Ago_

_“Sansa is to wed Lord Jaime Lannister, Tywin’s heir” Ned said as he read the letter from the Young Lion himself. They had not had a letter from Sansa in the four years she had been away, and the only one to ever mention she was still alive was Lord Tywin, the Duke of Casterly Rock, so this letter came as quite a surprise._

_Catelyn gasped beside him, “No--”_

_“He plans to take her away from court, to Casterly Rock” he continued reading. “Claims that she has been longing to be away from the Baratheons and her duty to the Queen” Ned paused, narrowing his eyes._

_“What? What is it?” Catelyn asked._

_“He states that he offered for her directly and they have chosen to wed, that Tywin did not make the match” Ned looked to his wife. “He asked me to send her a Stark tartan, as hers was destroyed.”_

_“Do you think…” Catelyn swallowed. “If what he says is true perhaps he cares for her.”_

_“Giving her a tartan could be seen as treason, there must be some sort of tendre” Ned frowned at the letter. “Things must have been bad in court for the Young Lion to steal her away,” he said. “I will write to Lord Stannis, see what he makes of it.”_

_“And the tartan?” Catelyn asked._

_“She is a Stark, always” Ned nodded. “She will have her tartan.”_

Sansa awoke later than usual, due to their long day yesterday, coming awake slowly with her husband's body curled around her from behind. Jaime, her Jaime. She smiled to herself, wondering when the last time she had woken with a smile had been. Looking around the room her eyes grew wide at the opulent yet elegant decor. Casterly Rock was better than the summer palace, by far. 

The need to relieve herself had her sneaking from her husband's arms to take care of business. After, she washed her hands and face, pulling on her shift as she moved to the window. The grounds were huge, sprawling and green. Their window overlooked the garden and she saw the hundreds of roses in all shades reaching up to the morning sun. No more city she smiled. Moving away from the window she saw a wrapped parcel on the window seat. Plain brown paper wrapped with twine, a single thistle tucked into the knot. 

“It’s for you” her husband’s voice reached her and she looked to her husband who now lay on his side facing her, covered only with the sheet from the waist down. He looked like a golden god as he smiled at her. “A wedded gift.”

“This” she lifted the thistle carefully to admire it. “This would have earned me a lashing in the city.”

“We’re far from the city” he assured her. “And you cannot fool me, you had one in your hair at our wedding.”

“Did I?” she asked innocently, setting the flower on the small table to loosen the twine. Pulling the paper apart she expected it to be a dress or cloak but never this… “ _Mo Dhia_ ” she covered her mouth with shaking hands, eyes filled with tears at the sight of the heap of rich green, grey and sage plaid fabric, not just any fabric, a Stark tartan. She choked on a sob at the pewter pin that rest in the center, the raging direwolf head with red gemstone eyes staring back at her. 

Strong arms came around her, holding her as she cried softly, “Jaime…”

“You’re a Stark by blood and a Lannister by marriage” he said softly. “My father always taught us to remember who we are, always. Now I can do the same for you. Here, in our home you do not need to hide.”

“The King---” she whispered. 

“You are a Stark, Sansa” Jaime told her. “I will not burn your tartan to punish you. Your parents sent them--”

“My parents” she whispered, eyes still on the fabric. 

“I wrote to them over a fortnight ago to tell them of our marriage---”

“Can I write to them?” she blurted, looking up at her husband, blushing only slightly at his nudity. 

“You mean...you haven’t?” he frowned.

“Not in four years, since the King…”

“You truly were their prisoner” he smoothed her hair back and kissed her forehead. “You can write to them, as long as you’re not plotting to take the crown” he smiled down at her, eyes flashing with mirth. 

“Mah Sassenach, I donnae want yer crown” she said in an exaggerated brogue, one she had carefully schooled away at court, cupping his cheek. 

“Gods” he growled, pulling her closer against his nude form. “Do that again and I’ll carry you back to that bed.”

“Whut’s fur ye’ll no go by ye, fear-cèile” she taunted. ‘What will happen, will happen, husband’. She laughed loudly as, in the next moment, he lifted her over his shoulder, carrying her back to the bed where they did not emerge until after the midday meal.


	4. Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still doing what I want with Scottish Gaelic....sorry #notsorry

To say the staff of Casterly Rock were immediately enamoured of his wife would be a vast understatement, Jaime decided as he watched Sansa speak with the housekeeper Mrs. Poole, an older lady, near 50, who he had never seen smile before today. 

Jaime had been talking with Addam about any urgent matters that needed to be handled when the two women had walked into view of the Master’s study. They were talking in the garden, his wife looking stunning in a pale ivory dress, her tartan wrapped around her like a shawl. Her parents had sent two; a smaller shawl and a larger blanket sized one that lay on their bed now, he would never forget her smile as she lay it there. 

Her hair was styled in an intricate Scottish style, half of it up in braids and the other half down in curls to her waist. He had hoped that when they arrived at the Rock the truth of his wife would emerge and here, on their first day here, she had already begun to emerge. 

“If I may, My Lord” Addam once again realized that Jaime had trailed off while looking at his bride. “We are all very happy you have found such a lovely young woman.”

“Found” Jaime chuckled. “She was right under my nose, Cersei’s lady-in-servitude” he said and Addam frowned deeply. “Exactly.”

“Lady Lannister has a kind heart” Addam looked to two women who were now looking at the vegetables growing alongside the flowers. 

“Too kind for the city” Jaime agreed. “And too kind for the likes of my sister.”

“As you say, My Lord” Addam agreed with a knowing smile. 

“Now that we’ll be in residence for the foreseeable future, I will be happy to work with you on any of the household matters and the account” Jaime explained. “I will ride the fences tomorrow.”

“Ser Bronn has been monitoring them” Addam advised. 

“Gods, is he married yet?”

“No, he says there are ‘still plenty of maids left’, My Lord” Addam laughed.

“Send word that I am in residence” he glanced to Sansa. “I will just have to keep him away from my pretty wife.”

“No small task” Addam agreed. “But I believe the Lady Lannister could handle him.”

“She is no simpering debutant, this is true” Jaime agreed looking to the desk. “It looks as if I have a lot to catch up on.” 

“It is nice to have a Lannister couple in residence once more, My Lord” Addam said as he stood. “I shall leave you to your work.”

Sansa found a quick friend in Mrs. Poole, enjoying the woman’s no nonsense attitude and kind heart. Mrs. Poole had given her a tour of the gardens, showing her the grounds surrounding the home itself. 

Sansa loved the roses and had offered her help with the vegetables. When Mrs. Poole protested that it wasn’t a Lady’s place she explained to her that she had helped her mother with chores at home and Sansa was never one to sit idle, insisting that she must have some purpose to her day. 

When duty called the housekeeper away, Sansa wandered to a shaded bench overlooking the rolling hills and smiled. It was truly beautiful here, she thought. The breeze chilled her and she pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders, feeling as if it were a hug from her mother herself.

She never dared hope to see a Stark tartan once more, muchless own one. But her husband, somehow he had known that it was something she wanted more than anything. He had written her parents, as she would do later today, and given her a piece of her family back. 

The broach now sat on her night table beside the bed she and her husband would share. 

_”There are chambers” he motioned to a connecting door. “Should you wish…but I, I confess I do not wish it.”_

_“Oh” she glanced at the door before smiling and setting her broach on the table beside the gigantic, opulent bed they had already shared. “I will stay” she assured him, remembering their shared promise of a true marriage._

True marriage, she could feel the physical reminder of their marriage in the ache of her body. Delicious though it was, they spent a considerable amount of time in bed this morning. Not that she minded, her husband was quite an accomplished lover. Determined to make heirs, she frowned momentarily then remembered it wasn’t heirs he was worried about when he used his mouth…

Blushing softly she stood, if she wasn’t careful, she could fall in love with the Young Lion. Then he would be able to truly hurt her when he decided he no longer wanted her. She made her way back inside and to the study she had been shown earlier. She heard voices in the hall and saw, when she made it to the doorway, that Jaime was talking with a dark haired man in all black with a heavy Irish brogue. 

“Oh fook me, Jaime” the man turned to her with wide eyes. “Ye bring me a gift, then?”

“Easy Flynn, that is my wife” Jaime stood, offering her his hand and she moved forward to take it. “Lady Sansa Lannister, I’d like you to meet Ser Bronn Flynn, an old friend of mine I met while travelling with the army. Bronn, my wife, Lady Sansa Lannister.”

“Yer too beautiful for him” Bronn smiled, taking her hand. 

“I donnae know ‘bout that” she smiled. “It is lovely to meet ye, Ser.”

“Gods be great, she’s a Scot” Bronn looked to Jaime in surprise then looked to her shawl, releasing her hand. “Yer a Stark..?”

“Aye” she nodded, then paused. “Well, Lannister now.”

“I said a‘fore, I say it again, yer too beautiful for ‘him” Bronn laughed. 

“Tapadh leat” she thanked him before turning to Jaime. “I did not mean to interrupt, I was wondering if I could write a letter.”

“Of course” Jaime showed her to the writing desk near the windows. “This desk is all yours.”

“Do I…” she paused. “Do I need to show it to ye---you?” she corrected herself. 

“No, and you don’t have to correct yourself or lessen your brogue, Sansa” he assured her softly. “You don’t have to be English, not at home.”

“Thank you” she smiled. He helped her to sit and then moved back to sit with Bronn. The study-slash-library was large enough that she wouldn’t be able to eavesdrop and she was glad for the sunny corner. She found everything she needed to write her mother and father, including a Lannister seal. Grabbing the paper and inkwell she got to work. 

“You fooking kidnap her then?” Bronn asked softly. “Wap her o’er her bonnie head?”

“No” Jaime laughed at his oldest friend. “She willingly married me.”

“A right lucky bastard, you are” Bronn shook his head.

Jaime laughed once more, glad to be back at the Rock and reacquainted with his oldest friend. He’d met Bronn nearly ten years ago when he was barely 21. He’d been at a pub in Cheapside enjoying a brief spot of leave when Bronn, a mouthy drunken Irishman had gotten into a fight that spread to Jaime’s table. They’d ended up fighting side by side and had become quick friends. 

Bronn now lived at the far northern point of the Rock, watching the properties and fences and hunting in the woods. A quiet life, but both of them were ready for quiet after the years of war. Bronn, however, preferred his quiet with the companionship of tavern wenches. Jaime looked to where Sansa sat in the sun writing and felt himself smile, she was all the ‘wench’ he would ever need.

“Oi” Bronn slapped his leg. “I’m fookin talkin’!”

“Sorry” Jaime cleared his throat. “Continue.”

“Need help, wife?” Jaime found his wife reclining in the bathtub when he entered their rooms that evening. She had retired after dinner, leaving him to a few more letters before he joined her. 

“Yer a terrible ladies’ maid” she said without facing him. Her long hair was piled loosely atop her head, her creamy shoulders visible above the edge of the tub. 

“How about as your husband then” he tossed his jacket aside and rounded to sit on the edge of the bed facing her as he undid his waistcoat. 

“Yer no’ so bad at that” she smiled. He found he enjoyed that her words were coming out naturally now with her brogue, revealing more that she had kept hidden. He was surprised to find that he found her impossibly sexy like this. 

“Not so bad” he scoffed, pulling of his boots to stand, shedding the rest of his clothing. “Scoot” he told her and she moved forward so he could slip in behind her. It was fortunate the water had been low as now the tub was quite full. He pulled her back against his chest, arms and legs going around her as the lavender scent surrounded him. Her head lolled back on to his shoulder giving him a fantastic view of her breasts. 

“Thank ye, Jaime” she said softly. “For my tartan.”

“You’re welcome” he kissed her neck just below her ear. “You looked beautiful with it, in the gardens.”

She blushed softly, “Thank ye.”

“Bronn certainly thought so, only said so thirteen or fourteen times” he pouted and she laughed, her body vibrating against his. 

“Bronn is not my husband” she looked up at him. “Ye are.”

“Aye, I am” he kissed her briefly. 

“Tell me about ye” she asked softly, watching him. “Who is Jaime Lannister?”

He thought for a moment, lifting her hand from the water to twine with his, “A first son who couldn’t read,” he began. “It took my father sitting with me every day for nearly 5 years before I could do it on my own. The words just never made sense” he turned their hands over, bringing the back of her hand to his lips. “A soldier who watched nearly every friend die beside him to put a man unworthy of a crown on the throne. A man, bound by duty to find a woman amongst the debutants of the _ton_ , all while refusing his father’s requests that he sort out the bride” he kissed her hand once more. “A husband now, to a woman I chose and who chose me, even as a mistress” he laughed softly. 

“I would have been your mistress” she admitted. “I would have done nearly anything to be free from that place.”

“I am sorry for the way they treated you, but I promise you I am not like them” he gently squeezed her hand. 

“I know” she squeezed his hand in return, turning to kiss the line of his jaw. Here with his body wrapped around hers she felt safe, cared for and happy. She would have been his mistress to escape, but she was realizing that being his wife was much better. Here she could be herself, be a Stark even if her name was now Lannister. One of the Queen’s first orders was to tell her to learn to speak like an educated person because her brogue hurt her ears. So Sansa had worked hard to school her voice, relearn her words as not to invoke the Queen’s ire. Every day at the palace she felt herself slipping farther and farther from who she was, who she is, and farther from home. 

“And who is Sansa Lannister” he asked her in return. “Tell me.”

“A daughter” she began. “To a man who chose to save the life of a bairn, a wee babe, even if it meant treason. A daughter to a woman who raised 6 children while her husband was away fighting for a foreign crown. A woman who took the place of a bairn expecting to die, only to find that there are worse things than death. A wife now” she smiled up at him. “To a man who is brave, gentle and strong, like my father always promised. And perhaps soon, a mother to infuriatingly golden bairns” she laughed. 

“Did you want children, before” he asked, his voice serious. 

“I have always wanted children,” she replied. “For as long as I can remember.”

“Even if they’re golden lions who cannot read?”

“Then we teach them, husband” she told him. 

He gave a nod, his arms tightening around her and then one of his hands wandered to cup possessively over her womb. It was too early to be able to tell anything, but his touch reminded her that it would not take long to carry his child. “Good” he said simply and they lapsed into silence as they relaxed. 

“I feel as if I've kenned ye foreva’” she whispered, leaning her forehead against his neck. 

“Kenned?” he smiled. “Ah, known.”

“Aye, sassenach,” she laughed softly.

“This does seem to be as easy as breathing” he admitted softly, rejoining their hands to lift them from the water once more.

“We’re free” she whispered to him, utterly relaxed against the solid wall of his chest. 

“Free” he kissed the side of her throat and she felt a chill race over her, though she was not sure if it was from his touch or the cold water. “Water’s cold, come” he helped her to stand, both of them exiting tub and toweling off. 

Setting the towels aside he scooped her up and carried her to the bed. She felt light as a feather as he lay her on the bed and settled atop her, his emerald eyes full of warmth as he watched her. 

“Jaime” she ran her hands through his hair. 

“Sansa” he cupped her cheek as he softly kissed her once, twice, a third time and this time her lips parted, allowing him to delve deeper. 

He kissed her for what felt like hours, deep, languid kisses that shot through her as his chest rubbed against her own sending the most delicious sensations to her core. She parted her legs wider, his body settling against hers to allow his hard length to tease her folds. 

She was pantnig against his lips when he pulled back, teasing her soaked body with his fingers “You’re not sore?” he rocked against her. 

“A little” she blushed, “But I...I want to.”

He gave a nod, “Alright” he grabbed her hips and rolled to his back, bringing her above him, astride as she would a horse. “Take your husband as you please, wife.” He helped her to rise over him and then sink back onto him, filling herself with his cock. 

Jaime watched her sink onto him, her gasp escaping her with a string of Gaelic that could only be described as obscenely arousing. Watching his wife take him this way was incredible, her slender frame available for his hands to wander. 

Though it took her a few awkward movements, soon she was riding him slowly, gasping and panting as she filled herself with his thick length. Her movements had her hair falling free and soon she had her hands in her hair to hold back the curls, her hips working him as she mewled. 

“Beautiful” he watched as she rode him, his hands stroking her everywhere he could reach, settling on her breasts where he plucked and teased her nipples. She was back to moaning and muttering words he couldn’t understand, with an occasional ‘aye’ in there. 

She sped her movements, hands bracing on his chest as her hair fell around them, “Jaime...” she cried out. He spit on his thumb quickly before settling it between them, teasing her clit in steady circles. “Gods, Jaime” he watched as she came, her body arched back, her hair tickling his thighs behind her as she dug her nails into his chest. Her body twitched them clamped on his, nearly forcing him from her body but he shoved deep, the sensation forcing his own orgasm and he groaned beneath her as they pulsed together. 

“Gods” she collapsed atop him, breathing heavily as she trailed kisses across his chest. 

“You’re a goddess” he kissed her hair. 

“Mmm” she laughed softly. “Nay” she sat up carefully, his body slipping from hers. “Together, we’re free” she smiled and he realized that he was dangerously close to losing his heart to this woman.

Catelyn sat beside the fire, reading and rereading the letter from Sansa. A letter she had never hoped to get. She smiled at the familiar Gaelic penmanship, reading it once more; 

_Mother & Father; _  
_I am so glad to finally be able to write to you, to you all. Lord Jaime Lannister tells me has written to you to tell you of our marriage and now we are wed and living at Casterly Rock._  
_Father, I am sure you will be sad to hear it but your oldest friend, King Robert, is a dreadful drunkard and I have been working as a servant in his household these four years._  
_But do not worry, I am free now, free and happy with Lord Jaime. He is a good man, strong, brave and gentle like you promised father. He has given me back a tartan and I wear it with pride._  
_Please write soon, tell me everything I have missed. How is little Aegon? And Rickon? Tell me of everyone._  
_Your daughter,_  
_Sansa_

She had read it aloud to Ned as he came to bed, both of them happier than they could say to hear from their eldest daughter. 

“I will write tomorrow” Catelyn set the letter on the table before joining her husband in bed. 

“She is happy then” Ned smiled softly. 

“Aye” Catelyn snuggled beside her husband. “Casterly is not so very far…”

“Nay, tis not” Ned agreed smiling at her as they both fell into slumber. 

It was nearly dawn when the cries came, echoing through Winterfell Keep and pulling them from their slumber; 

“Fire!”

“Invaders!”

“BARATHEONS!”


	5. Part 5

Every day it seemed as if Jaime learned something new about his wife, and today he learned that she was quite an accomplished sportswoman. Glancing to his left he saw her atop the inky black destrier in a deep green riding habit, her plaid shawl now wrapped around her torso and pinned at the shoulder with the direwolf pin. She looked every inch the Scottish beauty as they rode the eastern fences together. 

“Yer starin’ again, husband” she laughed softly, grinning at him. 

“I am” he admitted. “What other secrets are you keeping, wife?” he looked pointedly at her mount.

“Secrets, och” she shook her head. “Just because yer pretty English girls donnae ride, shoot or hunt doesnae mean others cannae” she replied in the brogue that drove him wild. They had been married nearly a moon’s turn now and every day he was reminded of how fortunate he had been in finding her. 

During the war, had rarely imagined himself married and when he did it was to someone pretty but vacant, a woman chosen for her title rather than whether they actually liked each other. But now, with Sansa, he found that he much preferred being married than being a bachelor. A fool would say it was the fantastic sex that had clouded his mind, and it was fantastic, but it was more than that. He was, quite simply, happy. 

“Come here, wife” he turned his mount back to hers, moving alongside hers he removed his hat to lean closer. She smiled, indulging him once more as she too leaned forward, their lips meeting in a brief kiss before he leaned back and replaced his hat. 

They returned to riding, side by side. Jaime would occasionally point out a landmark along the stone fence or share a story with her as they went. They were nearly ready to turn back when rustling in the trees caught Jaime’s ear a second before a pair of wolves emerged from the trees, jumping atop the stone wall to watch them. One a deep, mottled grey with black on his face and the other a russet grey with red on its back, both very large. 

“Sansa” he moved his mount between her and the wolves. 

“Jaime” she said quietly. “They’re wolves, madadh-allaidh, they willnae hurt us.” At her thick brogue the wolves’ ears perked up, looking to his wife with interest, “Story tells us Starks descended from the wolves of the Highlands.”

“Highlands, yes, but this England, darling” he smiled. 

“Northern,” she reasoned. “Tis no so verra far” she guided her spooked mount around his and spoke to the wolves in low Gaelic. He could only watch as his wife charmed the wolves, their body language melting from fearsome to friendly as she spoke. Then she gave a sharp whistle, turning back to him and, to his shock, the wolves followed. 

“God’s you’re a wolf tamer” he blurted. 

“One cannae tame a wolf, Lannister” she grinned.

“I’ll tame you, wife” he smirked. 

“Ye could try, sassenach” she teased as they made their way back to the Rock, the wolf pair following behind her destrier.

Tywin shoved open the door to Robert’s office, ignoring the fact that there was currently a whore on the King’s lap as he strode forward. 

“What have you done!” Tywin yelled, throwing the papers onto the King’s desk. Robert leaned around the whore to look at them, and Tywin glared at her, “Out! Now!” he barked and the red-headed woman removed herself from the King’s cock and ran out of the room. 

“Tywin---” Robert belched. 

“What have you done? You blubbering idiot!” Tywin was furious, beyond anything he could comprehend but kept his voice calm, cold. 

“I sent Joffrey with men to Winterfell, demanded the child” Robert stated simply. 

“You had Lady Sansa---”

“And your son took her away, she was to be mine!” Robert countered. “The deal was broken.”

“So you burnt Winterfell Keep to the ground?” Tywin shook his head. “Madness. Madness and stupidity. Who helped you? You’re too stupid to do this on your own.”

“Watch your tongue” the King stood, swaying on his feet as he faced down the hand.

“I have worked hard to keep Laird Stark and his bannermen in Scotland happy” Tywin explained. “I gave their, for all intents and purposes, princess to _my son_ in marriage. I kept them placated and you have ruined everything.”

“They would not hand over the child--”

“A toddler was not coming for your crown,” he glared. “But now the whole of Scotland will be” he glared removing his Hand of the King insignia from his lapel. “Good luck, Your Grace” he tossed the metal pin onto the desk.

Tywin spun on his heels, marching from the room to bark orders as soon as he was making his way upstairs. “My horse, now! I leave within the quarter hour. Send my trunks behind me, I will go on horseback.”

“Father---” Cersei found him as he packed his saddlebags. 

“I am going back to the Rock” Tywin said plainly. “Winterfell Keep is gone. Burned. And with it the Stark family,” Tywin stood, facing her. “I will not watch my decade of work be washed down the drain for a foolish act of war. Why? Because your husband wanted to fuck the Stark girl? Madness. The time has come for me to make a choice, and I choose my family. I will protect my legacy and in order to do that it cannot be shackled to Robert Baratheon.” 

“Father---”

“Did you help him?” Tywin asked her bluntly and she only stared back at him, green eyes cold. “Goodbye, Cersei” Tywin spat as he put the bag over his shoulder and strode from the room. Descending the stairs he whistled for his coat. He would wash his hands of this place and watch it tear itself apart. The Scots would not stand for this, Tywin would not stand for this. 

He smiled to himself as he pulled on his hat and mounted his black stallion, Robert’s actions had made Jaime’s wife heir to Scotland, whether he realized it or not. And this _would_ not stand. 

Urging his mount forward he was gone, leaving the foolish stag king and his ‘advisors’ to its own. 

Sansa smiled as she dug her hands into the earth, tending to the garden and pulling weeds away. She hummed softly to herself, smiling as she smoothed a bit of dirt away from the tomatoes. From the corner of her eye she could see Geri, the dark wolf and Freki, the russet wolf as they lay in the shade. They had become regulars at the Rock now, much to the shock of the staff. Generally wherever she went, the wolves would follow, though sometimes Geri took to following Jaime around as he worked.

She had been at Casterly Rock well over a moon’s turn now and she found that she enjoyed life here. She woke each morning beside her husband, body sated from their evening’s activities and a smile on her face. In the mornings they didn’t indulge each other in deep kisses or slow coupling, they would ride, the wolves running around them yipping and wrestling. 

Lately she had started working in the garden with Mrs. Poole and the other kitchen maids, tending the vegetables and herbs, happy to finally be of use. She was not afraid of work, afraid of chores and she was glad to have a purpose in her days. 

And Jaime, she smiled as she thought of her husband. She enjoyed him more with each day, and not just his body. She had found a man with whom she could talk, relax and smile with.

Sansa was in the garden when she heard Bronn’s yelling voice. Standing she moved away from the vegetables and put her apron aside as she moved into the hall where Jaime and Bronn stood talking in hushed tones. 

“Jaime” she paused at his stricken look. Bronn stepped back, his frown deep as he refused to meet her gaze. “Something has happened” she looked to her husband whose eyes were dark and ashamed. 

“Sansa” Jaime came closer as Bronn faded into the background. 

“What could be….” she trailed off. 

“Winterfell is gone” he told her, his expression one of pain. She could hear the wolves barking but the sound was muffled as if she was underwater.

“No” she shook her head, backing away from him as he reached for her. “No, you’re lying” she choked on a sob. “No!”

“King Robert,” Jaime frowned. “He burned it down---”

“Yer lyin’,” she screamed, her eyes burning as she realized she could barely breathe. 

“I’m so sorry” Jaime hauled her close as her legs gave out. “So sorry…”

She felt the tide of darkness pull her under, the pain melting into oblivion and then there was nothing. 

Jaime barely caught her when she fainted, holding her slender frame to his chest. His heart ached for her, for her family. Here it was, the other shoe. Robert had gone for Aegon once more and in his wake destroyed every last Stark he could. 

He held her unmoving form against his chest, lips pressed to her forehead as his heart broke for her. This woman who had become his everything had just lost her family. Her home. 

Bronn had ridden hard to bring him the news, the stories of devastation from the Stark bannermen. They would seek their Princess now, as she was the last living Stark and it was her birthright to take the keep, rubble or not. 

Lifting her into his arms, Jaime carried her upstairs. Bronn followed him, cautiously walking beside the wolves. He reached their chambers and Bronn helped him to open the door so Jaime could place his unconscious wife on the bed. Geri and Freki lay on the rug at the foot of the bed, protecting their mistress.

“She’s all but a Scots Queen now” Bronn stated as Jaime watched his wife. 

“She’s lost her parents, her brothers, her sister” Jaime frowned deeply. “The boy she chose to die for, they’re all gone.”

“She has you” Bronn reasoned. 

“I am no Stark” Jaime said softly. 

“Yer her ‘usband and ye care for her. Anyone ‘ho looks could see that” Bronn replied, fidgeting with his hat in his hands. “I will be back, I am goin’ ta see if there is more news,” he said, dismissing himself from the room. 

Jaime sank to the edge of the bed, his mind racing at the news. There was no way his father condoned this, not this. His sister, perhaps, his nephew certainly but not his father. This was an act of war, one that the Lannisters had worked hard to quell. He sat beside her until nearly dark when the house erupted into chaos once more. 

Sansa came awake with a jolt, aware that she was still fully dressed and----

Her heart clenched and she swallowed a sob as she remembered her husband’s words. Gone, they were all gone. Her family, her home. Destroyed. Pain coursed through her and she nearly doubled over. She focused on breathing, panic bubbling within her. Silent tears fell down her cheeks as she felt her stomach roll and all she could do was breathe through it. 

It was nearly dark, she saw now, the fire in their room the only light. Forcing herself to sit up she saw she was alone and grabbed her shawl to wrap it around her. She stood making her way to the door and towards the sound of male voices. Freki followed her, meaning Geri must already be with Jaime. Good, she would have him protected, her husband was all she had now.

“He has as good as declared war” Jaime’s voice was cold as he spoke. 

“I know, Jaime. Why do you think I left?” Sansa paused at the sound of the Great Lion in the house. 

“Are they all...:”

“Yes” Tywin replied. 

Sansa pushed herself down the rest of the stairs and into the doorway of the study. There she saw father and son beside the fireplace, both looking decidedly out of sorts. Geri set beside Jaime’s legs and Tywin held a glass of amber liquid.

“Sansa---” Jaime came to her but she glared only at the Great Lion. 

“Was it ye?” she asked coldly, uncaring if her brogue was thick.

“No” the Great Lion said, his gaze hard. 

She marched forward, facing down the Great Lion, “Did ye do this?”

“No” he countered. “Do I look stupid, girl?” he spat.

“Aye” she was beyond caring at this point. Her family, her home was gone. All of it. 

“What the King ordered was an act of war. One that his son carried out,” Tywin glared down at her, his emerald gaze so much colder than Jaime’s. “I have worked hard to prevent war. I am not stupid, Lady Lann---”

“Aye, yer right daft” she spat. “To think yer drunken whoremonger of a king could rule” she spat onto the floor at his boots. “Ye watch him fook his whores, make bastards, beat servants---paw his wards, and yet you now condemn his act of war? Yer a Gods be damned fool!”

“Sansa---” Jaime wrapped an arm around her waist as she moved to confront the Great Lion once more. 

“She’s right” the Great Lion sighed, sipping his whisky. “Robert is no King, that is why I was in communication with Laird Stark among others. But this...this is beyond me. Beyond stupidity. I have resigned from my place as Hand and I will no longer be serving Robert Baratheon or his Queen.”

“Resignin’ doesnae bring them back” she cried out. “They were children!” she sobbed and she felt her husband’s arms band around her, holding her safe. “They were just bairns…” she felt her body go weak. 

“This will not go unaddressed” Tywin promised as she felt Jaime pull her to his chest. 

“I will kill him” Sansa promised softly, holding her husband tightly, tears burning at her eyes. Here it was, the catch to her happiness. Her family was gone, all of them, at the hands of a bitter king and bloodthirsty prince. She was the last Stark, the last of her family ...a sob tore from her throat as she clung to her husband. 

“I daresay you will have to wait your turn” the Great Lion stated. 

“Do ye think she read mah letter?” Sansa asked him in the firelight of their room. 

“Yes” Jaime assured her. “She would have had time to read it.”

“They would have kenned how happy I am” Sansa whispered and he held her tightly. 

“They will be given justice,” he told her. “For the Great Lion to return to the Rock, there must be plans in motion to avenge the Starks, both from Scotland and those who support peace here in England” he explained and she nodded against his chest. They had stripped away their clothes, both wanting to be as close as possible. She had curled into the front of his body as soon as he lay down and he held her safe. “My father hasn’t been to the Rock in years. Though I daresay that the Great Lion didn’t expect to see his heir being shadowed by Scottish wolves.”

He could feel her lips smile against his skin at that, “I think they’re a mated pair” she said. “Mates stay together.”

“Gods, if we have wolf pups running around Casterly Rock the Great Lion may die of shock” Jaime laughed.

“Jaime” her soft voice had her looking down at her. “You cannae leave me” she whispered, so softly he barely heard her. “You cannae..”

“I am right here, I am not going anywhere” he assured her. 

She leaned up then, closing the gap between them to kiss him. Softly at first but soon with urgency and desperation. Selfishly he ignored her grief and held her tight, returning her kisses until they were both short of breath. 

She tried to move him to his back then but instead he sat up against the headboard, helping her astride him. The blankets fell away, chilling their heated skin so she leaned back, pulling her plaid over her shoulders. She aligned the head of his cock with her slick channel and sank onto him, sighing as her arms and therefore the plaid, went around them. 

Cocooned in her plaid, she rode him slowly. Their mouths exchanged kiss after kiss, their chests pressed together as she moved. His hands wandered her back, breasts and hips, memorizing every inch of her as he did each time they came together. 

“Jaime, mo Jaime” she whispered between kisses, her soft Gaelic wrapping around his heart. It was achingly slow, almost reverent worship of each other. Of life. They moved together for what felt like hours, slowly building their peaks together, and when it finally took them, she did not cry out, simply sank onto him once more with a gasp and came. He felt her body milk his, squeezing and soaking him with her juices, and he came within her, his own groan soft in the room. “Mo Jaime” she whispered as he jetted into her. “Tha gaol agam ort, mo Jaime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picset is viewable [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/186459746866/alliance-regency-au-jaime-sansa-and-a-unique/)


	6. Part 6

If Tywin Lannister had ever laid eyes on Lady Sansa before, it was surely not the firebrand that came to the study last night. He gave a brief moment of admiration for her schooled expressions and lightened brogue in the city, she must have worked very hard to keep Cersei happy. Certainly harder than he had given her credit for. 

Last night he had finally seen what his son had seen in her and could understand Jaime’s urge to marry her. She was beautiful, spirited and strong. She was not a wailing, screaming mess at the loss of her family but a proud woman who had been wronged and vowed her vengeance. Tywin paused in eating his breakfast and wondered what sort of stubborn grandchildren he had awaiting him, between Jaime’s headstrong nature and her fire, they would surely be formidable. 

He had been surprised to see Jaime greet him in the drive, a large black wolf behind him and even more surprised when the wolf followed Jaime’s movements closely, even into the house. Dogs in the Rock, he scoffed. It seemed Sansa had one as well, surely tamed by her Scottish blood. Soon the tenants would be telling stories of packs of wolves and lions roaming the hills.

His true shock had been the tartan shawl that Sansa wore last night. She certainly did not have that when she left the city, as Robert had seen to it that hers were burned. A gift from Jaime perhaps then, a risky gift to be sure, but not if you cared more about the person receiving it than the consequences. Perhaps Jaime was more like the Great Lion than he had given him credit for. 

As if conjured, Jaime joined him in the small dining room, sitting across from him.

“Father” Jaime greeted softly as a servant placed a plate in front of him.

“Jaime” Tywin acknowledged. “You should know that I will be staying at the Rock for the foreseeable future” he informed him. 

“If you would like the Master’s--”

“No, I have no need of them. You are the married man now” Tywin cut him off. “As long as you’ve been doing your duty to---”

“I have” Jaime in turn cut him off. “That is not nor has it ever been a duty.”

“Good” Tywin gave a nod and they continued to eat. “Seeing her now, I can see why you wanted her. Quite beautiful.” 

“She’s more than that” Jaime told him coolly. 

“Indeed” he nearly smiled at his son. Instead of commenting further he changed the subject back to the matter at hand. “I have sent word to Lord Stannis Baratheon as well as several of Stark’s bannermen. I expect they or their emissaries will arrive here within a moon’s turn.”

“I doubt Robert acted alone” Jaime reasoned. 

“I believe Cersei assisted him though she refused to answer. Joffrey went to Winterfell himself” Tywin explained. “I would venture that Joffrey was a bit overzealous as he always is.” Joffrey was his only grandchild, both Myrcella and Tommen having been taken by fever when they were quite young. Joffrey was barely ten and eight and just as stupidly impulsive as his boar of a father. The only problem is he was violent. Hitting nannies, his mother, raging tantrums, he was terrible. Now it seems he had a taste for blood and he had to be stopped. 

“Can we avoid another all out war?” Jaime asked. 

“I hope so” Tywin took another bite before continuing. “An unintended consequence is you now have the last Stark as your wife, practically royalty. Should war come, House Lannister will stand with House Stark. And I suspect that House Baratheon of Dragonstone will stand with us against its brother. We cannot condone the slaughter of women and children in their beds. I have worked hard to avoid that occurrence.” 

“An’ House Greyjoy will stand wit ye” Sansa’s voice sounded from the doorway and Tywin watched as Jaime moved quickly to his wife’s side, helping her to sit beside him, her hand still in Jaime’s. Gods, his son was absolutely besotted. Where had the unruly rakehell gone? 

“Greyjoy of the English Iron Islands?” Tywin asked. 

“Ye forget, Lord Balon’s eldest son, Theon was a’ Winterfell” Sansa said as a plate was placed in front of her. “I grew up wit’ him, the Greyjoy heir.”

“Indeed” Tywin nodded, glancing at her tartan.

“Does it bother ye?” she asked boldly. 

“I admit I am surprised to see it, but no, it does not bother me” he paused. “I must give you credit, daughter, you had quite the English facade in the city.”

“Aye” Sansa nodded. “Yer daughter hates Scots, hates me. I did what I must to survive.”

“A commendable skill” he replied. “I trust your Gaelic is proficient? We may need it in the coming months” he asked.

“Aye” she replied. “I can both read and write in perfect Gaelic and English, my Lord Tywin” she said in perfect English. 

“Good” Tywin gave a nod and they returned to their breakfast. 

He noticed when Sansa hardly touched her food, Jaime wordlessly encouraged her, kissing the back of her hand when she consented to eat more. He realized then that his son was, at the core, a good man. Stubborn, headstrong and wild during his youth, he had found someone to anchor him, to live beside, just as Tywin had found in Joanna. 

And like the Lord and Lady Lannister before them, Jaime and Sansa shared a single chamber. Addam had let it slip that Lady Lannister’s chambers had gone untouched for a great many years and still remained closed. It seemed Jaime was not lying when he said it was no duty to bed his wife.

He had been hard on Jaime, pushed him to always be better, to do better with the hopes he would be a worthy heir. He had tried to arrange marriage after marriage for his son and he soon worried that Jaime would never settle. The Lannister legacy must be secure and to do that it needed sons. Tywin had paced rugs threadbare worrying about Jaime’s rakehell ways and a proper marriage. He offered him blondes, brunettes, curvy girls, slim girls. All were refused. As it turns out, Tywin just hadn't been using the right bait. 

Some distance away, Lord Stannis Baratheon, Duke of Dragonstone and brother to the King, mounted his destrier, his jaw clenched into an immovable grimace. Once more he was leaving his home, dark and damp that is was, to deal with his brother’s mess.

First he receives word from Laird Stark that his eldest daughter, held captive in the capitol is to marry Lord Jaime Lannister, of her own will. Then he receives word that Robert had burned Winterfell to the ground. A senseless act of war. 

Stark asked him of Lannister’s character, of who he was all while telling him that the man had also asked for Sansa to be delivered her family’s tartan. He had sent a reply, but he couldn’t be sure it was received. 

He told Stark that knew Jaime Lannister to be a strong soldier and smart tactician during their time at war together. He was damned good with a saber and cocky to a point of overconfidence. But he was not violent, nor did he thrive on war, like the others. He had found common ground and a friendship with the Young Lion over that, they hated war, but they did their duty. And while he could not comment on the marriage, having been away from the city for some time, Jaime was not a man who hurt women or made a habit of lying. 

Marriage, Gods, Stannis grimaced as he turned his mount to the gates, his old friend Ser Davos at his side. Once upon a time he had intended to marry Sansa Stark, an agreement between him and Laird Stark made once the war was seemingly settled. The girl herself likely did not know of it. In truth had she not given her own life in place of Aegon’s, she would be Duchess of Dragonstone by now. But once Robert had her in his clutches, he refused to let her go or honor the agreement. 

Robert, Stannis scowled. That drunken fool and his wild son had as good as declared war once more and now Stannis would stand against his own brother in the name of peace. 

“Davos?”

“Aye, sir” Davos gave a nod and they were off, a small vanguard riding behind them with the new sigil he had created to separate himself from the Baratheons in the capitol. 

“How does this work, anyway” Jaime smiled down at his wife who lay naked and satisfied in their bed. He tugged on her plaid, one that was partially wrapped around her. 

“Tis a blanket, husband” she smirked up at him. “Ah a plaid kilt ye mean?”

“Yes” he laughed. 

“Stand up” she pushed from the bed and grabbed the plaid, laying it and a belt on the floor. He let her guide his naked body through the awkward motions, then stand him back up and wrap him in the plaid until he finally wore it pinned at his shoulder. “There” she stepped back to admire her work. 

“Do I look like a Highlander then” he raised his arms to flex his muscles and she laughed. 

“Yer too wee fer a Highlander” she smiled. 

“I haven’t heard you complain yet” he pulled her naked body close, his hand posessively gripping her bare ass. 

“I ne’er said yer cock was small, husband” she said dragging the material up his thigh slowly to delve beneath and stroke said cock. 

“Now _that_ is much more convenient than breeches” he groaned as she worked him. 

“Aye” she sighed as his hands traveled over her body. 

“Fuck” he swore as she stroked his length, already hard and ready to take her again. He had almost laughed when his father asked about his ‘duty’, this could never be a duty, it was far too pleasurable, too perfect for that.

“My husband, always ready for me” she then whispered something in Gaelic and he nearly spent himself in her hand as he rolled her palm across the tip of him. 

“You know, the best part about this kilt” he kissed her briefly. 

“Hmm?” she tightened her grip and he groaned. 

“It's so much easier to do this” in a flash he moved her backwards and spun her so she was bent over the side of the bed. Touching her he found her already soaked, both with her own juices and some of his spend from their previous coupling. Moving the plaid up, he aligned himself and sank deeply into his wife, growling as he fucked her. 

Sansa had never felt so full in her life, her grip tight as she clutched the counterpane as he sank into her. He had not taken her like this before and she could not reason why, it felt incredible. She could feel him stretching her, every inch of him pounding into her soaked body. She could feel the fabric of the kilt on her ass and turned to see her golden, English husband looking decidedly Scottish as he fucked her. 

She had imagined once, in her youth, that she would marry a great Scottish warrior, like her father. He even had blonde hair when she pictured him, but when war came she pushed that hope aside. Now, as her husband fucked her ruthlessly she could only marvel at the plaid across his strong chest, the scars at his shoulder and side, making him look far more wild than she’d seen before. 

One of his hands travelled to the globe of her ass, grabbing the flesh with a strong hand as he fucked her into the bed. She couldn’t have swallowed the sound if she tried, her cry broken and harsh as she screamed out her climax. Loudly. 

“Fuck, sshh” Jaime’s hand covered her own, hips never faltering as he bent over her. The new angle made her scream louder, her body still locked in its peak as he moved. “Fuck, you’re fucking soaked” he whispered against her ear, and she was, she could hear the wet noises their bodies were making. She did her best to breathe through her nose as he held her cries smothered, “One more, give your husband one more” he said, his entire upper body coverings hers. She felt trapped in the best possible way, legs shaking and weak. 

She felt it coming, a familiar sensation that rolled from inside of her and broke free. She screamed into his hand once more, her weight sagging to the bed as her legs gave out and she peaked around him. He muffled his own growl on her shoulder as he came, coating her insides with his warm seed, trembling and thrusting softly as their spend spilled down her legs. 

“Gods” he panted against her shoulder as he took his hand from her mouth. He gave her one final thrust before his cock slipped from her and she whimpered at feeling so empty. “I would wear this everyday if it meant I could take you like this” he kissed her neck. 

“I’d let ye” she laughed softly, her body weak and lax. “We’ll get ye a red n’ gold one, then” she teased breathlessly. “We’ll get the Great Lion one too” she laughed and he rolled beside her, pulling her close. Both of them were boneless as they panted for air, recovering and waiting for their next round. 

Sansa was working alongside Mrs. Poole in the garden, as had become heir ritual. With both of them tending the plants, there was enough bounty to feed the estate and Bronn, along with whatever meat he brought in. Sansa was proud to be contributing, to be working towards a common good. Besides, working kept her mind busy and prevented her heart from aching for her family. 

The wolves, Geri and Freki were once against lounging in the shade, Freki sleeping while Geri looked over her. Sansa smiled, perhaps some pups would be driving the Great Lion crazy soon enough. 

Sansa stood to move to the tomatoes when she suddenly felt dizzy. “Oh” she stumbled and then her stomach rolled and she barely made it to the compost pile before she lost her breakfast. This wasn’t the first time she had felt dizzy or nauseated, but this was the first time she had been ill. 

“Easy, lass” Mrs. Poole rubbed her back softly as she soothed her. The action made Sansa think of her mother and she wanted to cry. Before she could talk she wretched once more, leaning heavily against the housekeeper. “Breathe” she reminded her and Sansa took gasping breaths. “Is this the first time?” 

“I have felt sick this week, at times” Sansa wiped her mouth with her apron as she stood, slowly, a hand on the sturdy housekeeper’s shoulder. 

“Aye,” Mrs. Poole smiled. “Tis a sign of a strong babe.”

“Babe....” Sansa swayed on her feet once more and Mrs. Poole helped her to sit on a stone bench in the shade. 

“Your Lion does not waste time,” the housekeeper smiled, bringing her a ladle of water from the bucket. “Drink, will help with the taste.”

Sansa did as she was instructed, the cool water helped her burning throat. To another, the housekeepers comment about Jaime might have earned her a scolding, but Sansa was close with her and would not fault her for her honesty. “Nay, seems he doesnae.”

“You will just need to take it slowly for a bit, as your body adjusts to the babe” Mrs. Poole advised. “Stay in the shade a bit, dear. If you feel ill in the mornings, bread and weak tea will help.”

“Thank ye” Sansa nodded. “I donnae…” she paused, biting back tears. “My mother didnae have the chance ta teach me.”

“I have four children, dear, I will help you” she smiled warmly and returned to work, leaving Sansa with her thoughts. 

A bairn, she felt fear course through her. Would she be a good mother? Would it be the son that Jaime needed? She drank deeply of the water before setting the ladle aside to wipe her eyes with her apron. Logically she knew that the time she spent abed with her husband would result in a child, but so quickly…Counting back she realized her last moon’s blood had been the week before her wedding, 7-almost 8 weeks ago. She could very well be almost two moons along now. Gods, she battled tears. She was going to have a baby, Jaime’s baby.

She choked on a sob and covered it with her hand, “Excuse me, Mrs. Poole” she grabbed her shawl and strode from the gardens, walking to the foothills where she cried softly, overlooking the rolling countryside. The wolves had followed, standing guard beside her.

She was happy, overjoyed in fact, but she felt so incredibly scared. She loved Jaime Lannsiter. She was horribly, completely in love with her husband, had even whispered the words to him once in Gaelic, and she was going to have his baby. She would have him and their bairn and she could never bear to lose either of them. She had already lost so much, it would destroy her to lose them. 

She sank to the grass, wrapping the tartan around herself even though she was not cold, and sobbed, holding her stomach as if to protect them both from any hurt. Geri and Freki lay beside her, head in her lap to comfort her and she dug a hand into Freki’s fur, anchoring herself as she fought her fear away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picset is viewable [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/186459746866/alliance-regency-au-jaime-sansa-and-a-unique/)


	7. Part 7

“Sansa” Jaime went looking for his wife when she did not come down for breakfast. Pushing open the bedroom door he saw she had dressed in her riding habit but was currently vomiting into the wash basin. He let out a curse and moved to her side, wrapping an arm around her as she gasped for breath. 

“I’m alright” she assured him, spitting and cleaning her mouth before facing him. Her cheeks were mottled red and her eyes watering. “I am alright, dinnae fash yurself.”

He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs, “You were quiet last night and now I find you bent over the basin…” his heart clenched with worry. 

“Dinnae fash, sassenach” she smiled at him, taking his hands in hers to hold them for a moment before placing one of them on her stomach. “Tis yer bairn makin’ itself known.”

He suddenly felt weak, looking blankly to where his hand lay, “Sansa…” he swayed on his feet.

“Aye, Jaime” she nodded, guiding him to sit on the window seat before sitting beside him. As she sat he pulled her closer, placing his hand back on her stomach. 

“So soon” he stroked the material of her green riding habit with his thumb as he held her gaze. He could see the happiness in her eyes and it made his heart ache. His beautiful, wonderful wife was going to have his child. His wife. His child. 

“We have spent quite a’bit o’ time in bed, husband” she laughed softly. 

“I never heard you complain” he smiled at her. 

“Never” she promised, leaning forward to rest her forehead on his. “A wee bairn, husband, infuriatin’ly golden.”

“Damned right” he kissed her softly before pulling her legs across his lap. He held her, simply held her, for several minutes. Her head resting on his shoulder as they shared the quiet moment of celebration. He heard her whisper something in Gaelic but he couldn’t make it out and she fell silent once again after. 

His mind was racing in the quiet of their bedroom, going in a hundred directions and nearly overwhelming him. A few moons ago he had been a bachelor to catch in the _ton_ and rather than submit himself to misery he set his trap for the fiery, proud beauty he had watched from a distance. He had offered himself to her as a means of escape, selfishly taking her as his wife in the process. 

He had married her and bed her before she could change her mind. He had grown attached to her, quickly and deeply and by the time they had settled in at the Rock he knew...they had been riding and he turned to look at his wife, her eyes closed and face turned to the sunshine with an expression of such unbelievable happiness, he knew then that he loved her. He promised himself that he would do everything in his power to keep that expression on her face, to make her happy. 

Jaime had fallen deeply in love with her, the wife he’d stolen from court. He would fight the hounds of the Stranger to keep her safe and spend his life happily at her side in the country. 

“Jaime” she whispered, breaking himself from his thoughts. 

“Hmm?” 

“I’m verra hungry now” she said and then laughed, her body vibrating against his own. He could only smile, holding her tightly for another moment before releasing her so they could wander to breakfast.

After she assured him for the hundredth time that she was safe for at least another moon’s turn, Jaime helped his wife to her destrier, making sure she was situated in the side-saddle before moving to his own mount. Glancing back at his wife he smiled, she was glorious atop her black horse, the green of her dress and plaid in place across her chest making her look like a queen.

He slid smoothly into the saddle and with a slow turn they made their way out of the stables. They rode for over an hour, walking their mounts along the stone fence, Geri and Freki following them as usual. Occasionally they would talk or pause to share a kiss, both of them basking in their good news. At one point he rode closely, taking her hand in his to kiss the inside of her wrist, keeping her hand in his as they rode.

They had just entered through the eastern gate when they spotted the butler running their way.

“My Lord,” Addam ran up to him. “I am glad I caught you, Baratheon riders have been spotted and should be here soon, the Duke awaits them on the front steps.”

Jaime’s eyes narrowed but before he could reply, Sansa urged her mount forward to the front of the house, the wolves following, “Shit--Sansa!” he gave chase. 

The riders were already halfway up the drive by the time they rounded the corner and while Jaime was summoned to his father’s side, Sansa paced her mount in front of the arriving men, halting them. There were no banners that Jaime could see, but also no army. It was a vanguard---The man in front came into clear view and Jaime realized it was Stannis Baratheon. 

“Was it ye?” Sansa’s thick brogue filled the front courtyard. She reined her mount to a stop, Geri and Freki on either side of her as she commanded the men’s attention. 

“Does she mean to fight them all?” Tywin looked up to Jaime with amusement in his eyes. 

“It would seem so” Jaime smiled proudly as he dismounted to stand beside the Great Lion. In that moment he cared nothing for propriety as he watched his fiery bride stare down the most imposing man in the kingdom after Tywin Lannister. 

“Lady Sansa Lannister, I presume” Stannis replied, looking at her plaid. 

“Aye” she gave a clipped nod. “I figur’ ye fer a Stannis, then. Did ye help him? Yer bastard o a brotha?”

“No” Stannis replied. “I would never condone the murder of women and children, and certainly not those of a man I considered a friend. I knew your father well, Lady Lannister. The Starks did not deserve such treatment.”

“I mean ta see yer brotha an’ his son dead” she told him bluntly. “If I ‘ave to rally the ‘hole of Scot’land to do it, I will!”

“Gods” Tywin chuckled. “She was wasted on your sister, she should be commanding armies.”

“She’s glorious” Jaime beamed with pride. 

“I can see” Tywin watched her resume pace in front of the men, wolves tracking her movement. 

“She’s with child” Jaime said softly and his father’s eyes shot back to his. “She told me this morning.”

“Gods” Tywin laughed then, patting Jaime’s shoulder. “I have never seen you so eager to do your duty, though the whole house knows you enjoy it” his father gave him a knowing look. “Congratulations, Jaime. I would say I am proud, but by the smile on your face you wouldn’t care even if I was not” he smiled. “Now we should probably get your wife away from Stannis before she has him grinding his teeth so hard they break.”

“Darling” Jaime moved to Sansa’s side. “Let’s allow our guests into the house, you can tell them over tea how you plan to kill the King” he smiled up at her, her flushed cheeks and bright eyes, Gods he wanted to drag her back to bed. 

“Aye” Sansa nodded and he helped her from the saddle as Stannis and his men dismounted. Stable hands moved in to take the horses away as Tywin moved forward to greet the Duke of Dragonstone. 

Stannis watched her covertly as the Young Lion helped her from her horse, surprised at her height and figure now that she was standing. There was no denying that Lady Sansa was a gorgeous woman. She unpinned her black riding hat and he saw the vibrant shine of her hair in the sun, like living fire in it’s chignon. She had stared him down without fear, a Scottish warrior atop the massive black horse surrounded by wolves as she told him in no uncertain terms that she was going to kill the king. She was quite singular. She was glorious. 

The Young Lion said something to her as he placed her hand on his arm and she smiled at her husband before he kissed her forehead. It was clear to see the affection there, Stannis noted, and suddenly their hasty marriage made sense.

“Lord Baratheon” the Great Lion greeted him. “Thank you for traveling all this way.”

“Lord Lannister” he shook the older man’s hand. “We find ourselves once again forced to deal with my foolish brother.”

“And his rotten get” Tywin stated. “Though I believe our interests are the same.”

“Indeed” Stannis’ eyes moved to the Scottish beauty as she approached.

“Lord Baratheon, it is good to see you” Jaime Lannister shook his hand. “Especially as no one is shooting at us.”

“Indeed” Stannis replied. 

“You have already met my wife, but I would like to introduce you anyway” Jaime continued. “Lady Sansa Lannister, Lord Stannis Baratheon.”

“Lady Lannister” Stannis took her hand and bowed over it before releasing it. “I would offer my sincere condolences for your loss.”

“Did ya ken my father well, Mah Lord?” she asked in that enchanting brogue. 

“I did” Stannis told her. “We fought together during the war and were in correspondence until his death.”

She gave a nod, her eyes sad, “Let us move inside, Mah Lords” she turned to smile at the Great Lion and then her husband. “I will call for tea while I arrange fer lunch.”

Stannis saw the pride in Jaime’s eyes as he led his wife away, even the Great Lion looked happy at her suggestion. Stannis sent the guards to the back while he, Davos and Edric Storm followed the Lannisters and the wolves inside. 

Inside, Sansa slipped away with a kiss, moving to talk with Mrs. Poole before she would go change from her riding habit into a suitable dress. Once the travelers had handed their hats, great coats and gloves off, Jaime moved with them into the Library, Geri at his heels.

His father poured all but Stannis two fingers of whisky before they sat, “Tell us” Tywin spoke first. “What was your last communication with Laird Stark? Did he mention any inkling of unrest?”

“No” Stannis shook his head. “His last letter was an inquiry to me about the nature of Lord Jaime Lannister. Telling me of a marriage and asking what sort of man had taken his daughter.”

“And no mention of Robert?” his father prompted. 

“Not at all. We did not speak of Robert often though I confess I was quite surprised to receive such a letter” Stannis said. 

“Why?”

“For many years I have tried to take Lady Sansa from the city” Stannis said, looking to Jaime. “Her father and I had an agreement that when she was of age she was to be my bride, however Robert would not release her.”

Jaime felt his heart race, Sansa had been betrothed to Stannis? “Did she know of this agreement?” he asked. 

“I suspect not, it was made shortly before the incident with Aegon” Stannis replied. “I am not here to take your wife, there is no need to call for seconds.”

“Intention or not, you cannot have her” Jaime glared and Geri, who lay at his feet lifted his head in silent warning to the newcomers. 

“Jaime” Tywin’s voice spoke calmly before he turned back to the men. “From what I gather, after my son and good-daughter left the city, Robert sent Joffrey and the Mountain to Winterfell to demand the child” Tywin reasoned. “From there I imagine things got messy.”

“And the Queen?” the man beside Stannis, Ser Davos, spoke. 

“I believe she would have had motivation to assist in this” Tywin replied. “She had no care for Lady Sansa, and King Robert had...a tendre for the girl.”

Jaime looked to his father then in surprise, “What?”

“Though I cannot be sure of his plans for her, I know that he made his intentions known to her and he likely would have taken her as a mistress to the least” his father told him. 

“King or not, he cannot have my wife either!” Jaime was on his feet, pacing to the fireplace.

“We won’t let that happen” his father assured him. 

“A Stark woman sends us to war in our youth” Stannis mused. “And here history repeats itself.”

“She is a Lannister!” Jaime countered. 

“The matter at hand is Robert’s act of war against the oldest house in Scotland” Tywin interjected. “The other Lairds will not let this pass. I have asked many of them here so that we can show a united front. House Lannister will stand with House Stark, I will stand with my son and good-daughter. What say you Stannis? Shall we overthrow another king, put you on the Iron Throne?”

Stannis took a deep breath, clenching his jaw before he released it. He glanced to his men who gave small nods, “House Baratheon of Dragonstone will stand with House Stark, as it always has.”

The men stood then, all of them shaking hands to seal their vows. 

“You still can’t have my wife” Jaime glared as he shook the would-be kings hand.

Sansa had changed from her riding habit into a deep burgundy dress with long sleeves. It was one of the dresses Jaime had gifted her upon the event of their wedding and she adored it. She unpinned the bulk of her hair, letting it fall to her waist, leaving the top in a braided bun. She paused at her vanity to pet Freki’s thick coat, running her hand over the wolf’s growing stomach with a smile. 

Often, when her heart ached the most, she imagined that her parents had sent the wolves to her, to protect her. Geri was dark of hair like her father and Freki russet of hair like her mother, a mated pair and soon to be parents. She wondered then if perhaps 5 or 6 pups would arrive when it was time, one for each of the Stark children.

Absently she touched her own stomach and wondered of her own bairn. Jaime’s smile had been luminous as she told him, his surprise overwhelming him as he sank to the seat, holding her tightly. A son, Sansa hoped with all of her heart, she wanted to give her husband the son he needed, to show her love in that small way.

Giving Freki one last scratch behind the ears she grabbed her shawl and made her way back downstairs to the kitchen where Mrs. Poole waited. 

“Lunch is ready, My Lady” Mrs. Poole greeted. 

“I will fetch them, then” Sansa told the housekeeper. 

“Before you go, how are you feeling today, dear?” Mrs. Poole asked. 

“I was ill this mornin’ but I am fine now, thank ye” she squeezed the woman’s hand. “I told Jaime.”

“I am sure he is very excited, the whole house is excited” she smiled. 

“Me too” Sansa told her before moving back to the study. She heard the men laughing as she approached, her eyes finding her husband first to admire him. He was truly the most handsome man she had met. Feeling her gaze he turned to look back at her, standing smoothly. “Lunch is ready, Mah Lords” she told him with a smile. 

“You look beautiful. Are you well?” Jaime asked her softly, offering his arm. 

“Aye” she assured him. “Hungry again” she laughed. She went from ill to starving in the span of minutes, the wee bairn demanding food. He escorted her to the dining room and helped her to sit as the other’s filed in. 

The Great Lion paused on his way to the head chair, taking her hand in both of his, “Well met, daughter” he gave her a knowing look and she blushed. Jaime must have told him their news.

“Thank ye, Mah Lord” she replied softly before he moved away.

The filthy man sat hunched over a bowl of stew, his large form weary and cold. He kept to himself in the corner, eating his first warm meal in a fortnight. The inn was busy, a loud crowd having taken up on the other side, drinking themselves stupid. 

He was traveling south, though where he wasn’t sure. Everything he owned had been tucked into the canvas bag at his side. 

“Aye, ye ‘eard it right, the Young Lion ‘as taken a bride” a thick Irish brogue reached the man’s ears. “A right bonnie Scot!”

“The Young Lion has a taste for wild Scottish lasses, then?” the men laughed. 

“Hair of fire, she ‘as” the brogue said. “A right fiery one! Taken ‘er to the Rock away from ‘is twat o’ a sista.”

The man’s eyes narrowed as he thought over the Irishman’s words. He knew many women that fit that description but only one who would be near a Lannister or the Queen. He listened to the men as he ate, letting the stew warm him from the inside. He would ride for the Rock tomorrow.


	8. Part 8

Jaime woke at dawn and rather than get up he propped himself on an elbow and watched his wife sleep. There was much to do, more Lords and Lairds would be arriving today, their plans almost all in place, but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the figure beside him. 

She was asleep on her side facing him, completely naked save for the sheet pulled to her hips, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Her hair was loose across the pillows, a molten lake of fire that stood out against her porcelain skin. He smiled at the small love bruise on her shoulder, a remnant of last nights coupling. When dressed no one would know it was there, but he would know, and as the other Lords looked at her Jaime would remember it was his name she screamed and his mark she bore. 

And his child she carried, his eyes moved to her stomach and the swell there. Married nearly five moons now and her stomach was rounded with his seed. It seemed to have grown overnight at first, then steadily since. Mine, he thought possessively. She was his and he was hers, none of the staring lords mattered. 

“Mo ghràdh” she murmured as she opened her eyes to smile up at him. 

“What does that mean?” he asked softly, moving her hair from her cheeks. She had taken to calling him that lately, whispering words he did not understand. 

“It is a term of endearment” she replied. “Its early.”

“I know, I was watching you” he smiled. “You’re so damned beautiful, my wife” he placed a hand on her stomach, the swell filling his hand. “My child.”

“Mrs. Poole noticed it yesterday” Sansa’s hand covered his own. “She said that yer mother start’d to show early when she carried with you an’ your sista.”

He swallowed thickly, “Is that possible?” 

“I dinnae ken. I cannae rememba’ if me mum had twins in ‘er family” she laughed. “Could be just another tall Lannister.”

He laughed softly, smoothing a hand over her stomach, “Sansa, I…” he paused, watching her eyes narrow as she leaned up on her own elbow. He was momentarily distracted by her bare breasts, fuller now and the nipples a deep rose pink. Tearing his eyes away from the heavy flesh he looked back to her. “You should know, you have to know,” he told her. “When asked you to be my wife in that library I had no idea--I could not have anticipated what our marriage had in store. I asked you to be my wife to save us both, I never realized that I would come to love you more than anything in this world.”

She choked on a sob, throwing her arms around him as she covered his face in kisses. She was speaking softly, quickly in Gaelic that he couldn’t understand. But a phrase, one she had spoken many times since their night cocooned in her plaid, stuck out.

“Tha gaol agam ort, mo Jaime” she kissed his temple. “Mo ghràdh, mo Jaime” she cried. 

“What does that mean?” he asked, looking to her. 

“I love you Jaime, mah Jaime” she kissed his lips. “Mah love.”

His heart clenched, “You’ve been telling me, all this time” he cupped her cheek. 

“Aye” she wiped away tears. “I love you, Jaime Lannister, my husband” she promised and he was overcome. 

He took her lips in a fierce, sinful kiss. Her arms went back around him and he pulled her close, the swell of their child between them as he devoured her mouth. He carefully rolled atop her, mindful not to crush her, and with quick alignment he slid home inside of her. 

“Fook” she sighed, tilting her head back as he filled her. 

“Sansa” he kissed along her jaw as he rocked within her. “My love.”

“Yes” she gasped clinging to his shoulders. With some careful maneuvering he took her hands in his own, lacing their fingers together to hold them above her head. He watched her them, held her at his mercy as he slowly made love to his wife. 

“Jaime” she gasped underneath her husband, watching the muscles of his arms flex as he held her in place. “Mo ghràdh” she whispered. He was moving at a languid pace, the thick length of him filling her with aching slowness that send shivers across her skin. 

This man, her incredible man was her husband and he loved her, _loved her_. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes once more as he made love to her, claimed her as his true wife in his heart. 

She had marvelled at every change their child brought to her body, her hands returning their often throughout each day to feel the hard swell and the life beneath. Her husband had given her so much, freedom, happiness, a home and he had given her a child. One that slept beneath her heart. A heart that was his. 

As he moved, he could feel the hard muscles of his abdomen brush against her stomach and it made her smile. A healthy babe she had thought and when Mrs. Poole suggested she might be growing so quickly because there was more than one babe, she had nearly cried with hope. She would give her husband a dozen children if he asked, each one dearly loved. 

“Fuck” he swore, his hands clenching hers tighter as he sped his pace. It felt incredible and when she tilted her hips he slid against that spot inside of her that would bring her immeasurable pleasure. 

“Mo ghràdh” she whispered. “Mah love” she held her legs as wide as she could as he spanned his hips harder. The bed was shaking with them now, his eyes roaming over her bouncing breasts before he leaned down to suckle a nipple into the warmth of his mouth. She cried out at the sensation. Her breasts were so sensitive now she felt each lap of his tongue shoot straight to her core. 

He loved her, made love to her and when she screamed her pleasure he slammed balls deep and filled her with a growl against her breast.

“Gods” he panted, rolling beside her to avoid collapsing on top of her. She whimpered as he withdrew from her body, his seed coating her folds and she rolled to snuggle against his side. He kissed her softly, “I love you, wife.”

“I love you, husband” she smiled up at him. 

Jaime was in the study with his father, Stannis and his men and Laird Mormont from the bear clans when a scream filled the house followed by running footsteps and barking wolves.

Panicked, Jaime ran from the room to see the front door wide open and Sansa and the wolves running outside, her shawl falling away. 

“Sansa!” he gave chase, the men following behind him. 

Expecting an attacker he was shocked to find Sansa hugging a very large, very dirty man, sobbing and speaking frantically in Gaelic as she covered his face in kisses. Beyond them he could see a smug Bronn walking up the drive after handing off the horses. 

Sansa was laughing and sobbing hysterically as the man lifted and hugged her, joy filling the yard. He set her carefully, a reverent hand touching the swell of her stomach as she spoke quickly. The wolves were jumping and yipping around them, celebrating their mistresses happiness.

“Gods be great” Mormont stared. “That’s Robb fucking Stark” the big blonde man moved past Jaime and to the reunion with a great laugh. 

“The heir” Tywin watched the Scots celebrating in the yard. 

Jaime was examining the large man closely. He was a man in his early twenties, younger than he appeared at first glance. In the sun his dark hair had a red sheen and his eyes were the same as Sansa’s, bright and clear. He had a beard and was unkempt, clearly he had been roughing it across the country and laying low. It seemed that House Stark would live on, and the clans of Scotland would rally behind the Laird to help.

“Jaime, mo ghràdh!” Sansa sobbed. “Come!” she called to him. Robb turned to his sister with questioning eyes, both of them speaking in hushed Gaelic. 

“Laird Stark” Jaime extended his hand. 

“Lord Lannista” Robb’s voice was dee, his brogue much thicker than Sansa’s as they shook hands. “I heard ye had taken a wild Scot o’ a wife, this ‘un said wit hair o fire” he motioned to Bronn. 

“Ya can fookin’ tank me later!” Bronn laughed. 

“Lord Tywin, den?” Robb shook the Great Lion’s hand. 

“We’d better get you cleaned up, Laird Stark” Tywin stated. “Then you can join us in our plan to take Robert’s throne.”

“Sounds great” Robb nodded, hugging his sister close. 

A few hours later, after a bath, a shave and private reunion with his sister where they cried and caught up on the last four years, Robb joined the other men in the library. He had given the staff permission to burn his filthy clothes and pulled the lawn shirt, sporran and kilt from his ratty canvas bag. It was time to be a Stark once more. 

The moment the door opened and he saw her he nearly cried. The last time he saw Sansa she was a girl of ten and three, now she was a tall, beautiful woman grown and the image of their mother. She wore a deep blue dress, her plaid shawl falling to the porch as she ran to him, uncaring of his unkempt appearance as she hugged and kissed him. 

He had felt her stomach before he saw it, swallowing a lump of emotion at the thought of his baby sister heavy with child. He had lost so much time with her and now they were the only ones left. 

After he had bathed and trimmed his beard he sat with her in the solar where they cried for their family together and she told him of her husband and how much she loved him. He had been surprised to hear her call the Young Lion “my love” but he could see the love in her eyes when she spoke of Jaime Lannister. He was happier than he could say that she had found such love. 

Splashing his face with water to clean up, she walked with him to the library and left him with the men. 

“Stark” Stannis Baratheon shook his hand. “Glad to see you.”

“Aye” Robb nodded. “It hasnae been an easy few moons.”

“Tell us” Tywin prompted as Jaime handed him a glass of whisky. 

“I wasnae at the keep” Robb explained. “I’d just fooked one o the maids in the village and went for a bath when I ‘eard the calls” he sipped his drink with a deep frown. “I dressed quickla, didnae have time for me kilt, just grabbed mah breechs an’ ran.”

“They wouldn’t have known you for a Stark without your plaid” Stannis reasoned. 

“Aye” Robb nodded. “The stone was smuldern’ when I reached it. The king’s men were leavin’, an entire fookin’ batallion, an’ I snuck around ‘em. I searched the rubble once it cooled a bit, I gathered what I could an headed South.”

“South?” Tywin asked. 

“Ta Sansa” Robb replied. “Ta keep ‘er safe. Ta kill the king if I ‘ad to.”

“We met in a pub near ta border” Bronn added. “Big fooker follow’d me like a damn’d dawg.”

“Thank you for bringing him” Jaime told his oldest friend. 

“You fookin owe me, Lannista” Bronn laughed as he refilled his glass. 

“What’s the plan, den?” Robb asked, finishing his drink. “Kill all those fookers?”

“Basically” Jaime smiled. “Yes.”

Sansa was happier than words could express, by some miracle her brother had found her, Robb had survived and came to her. She was going to have to knit Bronn a scarf to thank him. 

Robb told her that he’d been with a woman in the village and not in the keep when it started, that he got there too late and he felt incredibly guilty for not being there to save them. 

“Robb” she held his hand. “From wha’ I hear o it, you’d have died wit’ everyone else” she said. “Yer alive an’ we’re together” she smiled, trying to assuage his guilt and chase the sadness from his eyes. 

She had told him about Jaime and about their baby, though he had figured that out in the front yard. She had cried tears of happiness when she told him how much she loved Jaime and how he loved her in return and he was happy for her, relieved to see that she hadn’t been sold into a political marriage. He had been excited to see she had wolves and she told them her hope that they were sent by their parents to protect her and he gave a nod of agreement. 

When she left him with the men hours later she wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and made her way to the garden. She wondered where the wolves in question had gotten to and as she rounded the path near the forest’s edge she saw why. Geri was standing guard at the mouth of a small den and beyond him lay Freki and 6 very small pups. 

“Oh gods” she sobbed with joy. Leaving them to their moment she turned back, all but running to the house, mindful of her belly.

“Sansa? What’s wrong?” Jaime met her at the garden gate.

“Pups!” she laughed with joy, throwing herself into her husband’s arms. “We have pups!”

“Pups?” he held her laughing form tightly. “You mean?”

“6!” she laughed, kissing him as he spun her around. “Today has been such a wonderful day, mah love,” she whispered. 

“It has indeed” he kissed her deeply, uncaring that they could be seen by anyone at the house. 

Tywin stood on the veranda, whisky in hand as he watched his son spin Sansa around, their joy visible even from this distance. He couldn’t help but smile as Jaime set Sansa carefully on her feet and proceeded to kiss her, propriety be damned. 

The Great Lion remembered a time many years ago when he had celebrated with his wife, his love. There was no mistaking that Jaime was in love with Sansa, as she loved him. They had found their happiness in the world together, and Gods willing would fill the Rock with children.

Her being with child so quickly was very good news, Tywin felt relief in his old bones at the thought that the Lannister legacy would go on. And under Sansa’s maternal hand, they would be warriors indeed. 

“Well naw” the deep voice of Robb Stark joined him. “‘E really love’s ‘er, den.”

Tywin nodded to the large Highlander, “Indeed.”

“Good” Robb nodded. “She deserves no less den tha’.”

“Who knew Jaime was such a romantic” Tywin raised a brow at the new voice and turned to face the newcomer. “Miss me?” Tyrion smiled, his mismatched eyes gleaming.


	9. Part 9

“Brother, you’ve been busy” Tyrion spoke with a grin as Jaime escorted Sansa into the dinning room. 

“Tyrion” Jaime smirked. “Drink all the wine in the capitol already?”

“No, surprisingly not” Tyrion raised his glass. “I have been spying for our dear father. Watching the King and Queen.”

“And?” Jaime prompted, helping Sansa to her seat before sitting beside her. 

“Cersei is as mad as a march hare and Robert drinks more than I do.”

“Impossible” Jaime gasped. 

“Funny” Tyrion snarked. 

“Tyrion has been my inside eyes and ears” Tywin reasoned. “But things have escalated and he had to get away, I instructed him to come to the Rock.”

“Escalated?” Stannis asked. 

“My wonderful sister and good-brother have assembled an army” Tyrion explained. “And with it they plan to march North to take Scotland back.”

“Fook ‘im” Robb laughed loudly and Lord Jorah Mormont raised his glass in salute.

“They don’t realize how much they have angered the Scottish people” Tyrion continued. “They rather believe you’re savages.”

Robb laughed once more, this time launching into a tirade of Gaelic that has Mormont laughing and Sansa shaking her head, replying in a soft, plying manner. Jaime watched his wife, one of her hands on the swell of their child and the other moving as she spoke, emphasizing her point to her brother. She was enchanting, his bride. He could hardly tear his eyes away from her. 

“Jaime” his father’s voice brought him back to the present and he turned to see his father grinning. “Have you heard from the Hound?”

“No” Jaime shook his head. “I sent word the keep, looking for him but I have not heard back” he explained as he felt Sansa stiffen beside him.

“Perhaps he will arrive” Tywin noted. “A man of his talents would be useful against the Mountain.”

“Are you alright?” he asked Sansa softly. 

“Every child in Scotland ‘as ‘eard stories of the Clegane brothers” she replied. “Sassenach warriors the size o’ Highlanders. Great beasties of men who tear their way ‘cross the field o’ battle.”

“They are tenants of mine in the west” Tywin noted. “Loyal to my family. While Gregor is currently in the city with the King, surely enjoying his savage violence, Sandor has been for some time in the country.”

“If anything, Sandor will come to help kill his brother” Jaime took his wife’s hand and gave her a comforting squeeze. 

“‘Es a right ugly fooker” Bronn added. 

“Scars donnae make ya ugly, not to us Scots” Sansa commented. “Ne’er trust a man ‘ho comes back from war wit’out scars.”

“I agree” Jaime gently squeezed her hand once more and smiled at her before he looked to his father. “Regardless of Clegane, everything else has fallen into place and we will meet Robert and my horrible nephew on the field.”

“‘ere” Robb, Jorah and Stannis echoed, raising their glasses. 

Sansa watched from the veranda as Robb and her husband sparred on the grass in the backyard. She had not seen her husband fight before and was surprised at his skill. While Robb’s large Highlander form was powerful and relentless, his claymore falling with powerful strokes, Jaime was fast and hard to pin down, his broadsword blocking effortlessly. Laird Mormont sat on the grass, ale in hand as he watched the two men, occasionally barking orders to Robb in Gaelic. 

She had been watching a while, sitting on the veranda’s stone railing in the shade with a cup of tea, smoothing her dress over the swell of her stomach. She felt a presence beside her and she turned to look at the Great Lion as he joined her. 

“Mah Lord” she greeted. 

“I believe it is time you call me Tywin, don’t you think?” he said plainly. “Or father, or something other than ‘my lord’.”

She gave a small nod, “Forgive meh if I dinnae use Father” she said honestly. “The last man I called Father died ‘fore I could see him once more.” 

“I understand” Tywin gave her a nod. 

“Papa, perhaps” she suggested. “Father an’ Grandfather.”

“I should like that” he gave her a leonin smile that reminded her of her Jaime. 

“I ken I am not what ye would’ve chosen for ‘im” she said, watching Jaime as he laughed with her brother. “But I ken ye gave ‘im consent, an’ I am grateful.”

“I loved my wife deeply” Tywin said softly. “All I have ever wanted was her back with us, alive and happy. Since I cannot have that I would settle for my children to be happy. They are all I have left of her now. Cersei cast her pearls before swine and Tyrion is never sober but Jaime...Gods, I see so much of myself in him. Jaime chose you and while you might not have been who _I_ had chosen, you are who _he_ chose. He never asked me for anything before he asked for you. If he was willing to settle down and make a family with you, I could not deny him.”

“I love ‘im” she said with a smile. “I thought ‘e was too good ta be true” she laughed softly touching her stomach once more. 

“You remind me of her” Tywin said softly, his emerald eyes cloudy as he looked at her. “Strong and graceful, but with the heart of a warrior. I imagine my grandchildren will be quite a force to be reckoned with.”

“Mrs. Poole thinks I carry twins” Sansa admitted softly, meeting his candid words with her own. “I donnae ken if they run in mah family, but I hope ta give ‘him sons” she met his gaze with a smile. 

The Great Lion surprised her by reaching out to softly hold her hand where it lay over her stomach, “Even if you give him daughters they’ll be fierce enough to carry the Lannsiter legacy.”

“Tapadh leat, Papa” she whispered softly, smiling up at the fierce Duke. 

“That...is incredible” Jaime laughed softly as Sansa held his hand to her stomach where their child beneath pushed against his hand. 

During the day Jaime was usually busy with the other Lords and Lairds, but at night he was all hers. Tonight they had taken dinner in their chambers, enjoying their time alone and secluded from the world. They were relaxing together in the large bathtub, warm lavender water around them, her body in the cradle of his as she lounged against the solid wall of his chest. 

In the world beyond their chambers everything had fallen into place and soon Jaime, Tywin and the others would leave to meet the rest of the Scottish Lairds and confront the King and his Son. She did not want to think about the day she would have to watch her brother and husband ride away, she couldn’t bear it.

“Tis strange” she pondered, leaning her head back onto her husband’s shoulder. “To feel the bairn inside.”

“I can’t imagine” his hands smoothed over her stomach in the water. 

“I hope it is twins” she said softly. “Two boys like their da. Tho’ Papa Tywin says girls would be just a’ fierce.”

“Papa Tywin?” Jaime laughed. “He said that?”

“Aye” Sansa nodded with a smile. “He wants to be a proper granda so bad” she laughed. 

“Gods” Jaime laughed harder, wrapping his arms around her. “You’ve tamed the Great Lion.”

“Bah” she shook her head, nuzzling against him. “Ye cannae tame a Lion, sassenach.”

“I love you” he whispered, kissing her temple. “Once I get you out of this tub I will show you how much.”

“I love ye, mah ‘usband” she replied. 

When the water cooled he helped her from the tub, toweling them both off before carrying her to the bed and stealing a kiss. He pulled back before she could deepen the kiss and trailed featherlight kisses across her skin, trailing to the corner of her mouth to her shoulder and down her breasts. 

“Jaime” she gasped as he pulled a nipple into his mouth before continuing to her stomach and then between her legs. She cried out, laying back on the bed as he lapped at her folds and teased her. Her stomach had grown enough to block her view of him between her legs but she could barely breathe with how wonderful his tongue felt. “Jaime!”

He smiled against her flesh as she sighed his name and lapsed into a stream of Gaelic, her body trembling at his touch. He would never tired of hearing her sigh his name like that or the way the muscles of her inner thighs would shake around his head as he devoured her. 

He drank deeply of her, her hips writhing against him so he put a hand on the well of her belly to stroke the flesh and hold her still. Her Gaelic grew louder as she gasped for breath and then came against his mouth with a keening cry.

“Gods Jaime” she panted as he trailed kisses down her inner thigh. “Yer so damned good at tha’.”

“I am fairly certain the whole house now knows I am good at that” he chuckled. 

“Let them” she laughed as he moved up beside her. 

“Come wife” he lay on his back and helped her to straddle his hips. Her balance was a bit off at first but soon she was lowering herself onto him, sheathing him the most sinful way. “Gods” he groaned, watching her as she moved above him. Her breasts had grown, overflowing from his hands as he cupped them, each jeweled preak sensitive, her whimpers audible as he rolled them in his fingers. 

“Mo Jaime” she gasped, grinding her pelvis to his as she took him deeply. He could watch her forever, just lay back and enjoy the sight of his wife taking her pleasure from him. In the dim firelight of their room nothing else mattered, just them and their pleasure. 

He memorized every detail of her beauty, from the fire of her hair and the light dusting of freckles across her nose to the curve of her jaw and the mole near the base of her throat, he committed it all to memory. He felt her muscles contract before she screamed out his name, her head thrown back as she peaked around him. 

He moved her quickly, but carefully, rolling her to her hands and knees on the bed as she still shook from her pleasure and took her hard and deep. 

“Fuck” he hissed as she moved back against them, their bodies slamming together, her breasts swaying beneath her as she moved. Moving the heavy length of her hair aside he held it so he could watch her face as it contorted in pleasure. “Does Lady Lannister love it when her husband fucks her like this? When he fills her just right?”

“Aye” she all but growled, her hands twisting in the coverlet. “Please…”

“Come for your Lord Husband” he ordered her over the loud slaps of their flesh in the room. He could have roared in triumph as he felt her body peak once more, her scream muffled by her own hand as she came hard, fisting around him and soaking him, forcing him over the edge with her. “Fuck” he snarled, jetting into her as the edges of his vision went dark. 

“Gods” Sansa collapsed to her side and he lay beside her, both of them panting. 

“You may be a wolf by blood, but you roar like a lioness” he kissed her softly, smoothing her hair from her face. 

She laughed softly, “I love ye.”

“I love you.” 

Sansa was on the shaded bench in the garden when Geri and Freki, along with their 6 beautiful pups lifted their heads, a sign that someone was coming. Pushing to her feet, slowly and awkwardly she discarded her apron and made her way along the path to the front of the estate. She pulled her shawl over her elbows as she walked, wearing it along with a deep green long sleeve dress and her hair styled in the traditional way, she was sure she looked decidedly Scottish today. 

Scottish and heavy with child, she kept her hand low on her belly, reminding herself of the bairn she carried. Mrs. Poole was almost certain there was more than one babe, and Sansa hoped that was the case otherwise their child would be large indeed. The birth itself still scared her, she knew there would be pain, blood and the very real chance that she would not survive. She couldn’t bear the idea of leaving her husband and bairn behind. 

She watched from the shade of the arbor as a huge man on a pitch black destrier made his way up the drive. She knew who he was right away, from his huge form and the scars across his face this could only be Sandor Clegane, the Hound. 

He wore sinister all black, longsword on his back and a sabre at his side, his face a mask of gruesome indifference, as if even minor things would inconvenience him. 

All of the men were in the study, so she would take Clegane there himself, she decided. Moving from the arbor she smiled as he dismounted. 

“Ser Clegane, aye?” she smiled. 

“I’m no Ser, girl” his deep voice growled before he turned to face her. 

“I cannae verra well call ye Hound” she countered and then he turned to face her, his fury melting into surprise as he looked down at her. He was truly a very large man, even more so than Robb and while his scars were bad they were not the worst she had seen. 

He watched her for several moments, looking as if he were waiting for her to gasp for faint and when she did nothing he spoke, “Call me Clegane, then. No buggering Ser.”

“Clegane” she nodded. “Come, I will take ye to the others.” He gave a curt nod as a groom took his horse’s reins and then walked beside her to the front. 

She was an odd sort of woman, he thought as she met his gaze boldly and without fear. He had seen her the moment she appeared in the arbor, her fiery hair a beacon that stuck out in the foliage. She was beautiful, likely the most beautiful woman he’d seen and very obviously expecting a child. 

She greeted him without fear, her Scottish accent thick and when he turned to face her he realized that this was no maid, tall and beautiful with a plaid over her arms, this was _her_ , Lady Sansa Stark now Lannister. This was the girl that the fat fucking King Robert planned to take as mistress, the girl that the Young Lion had stolen away and the girl whose family had been slaughtered. This was _her_. 

To his surprise she didn’t even show a slight reaction to his scars, no fear or pity, just looked at him and waited for him to answer. 

They walked silently into the Rock’s grand estate, he wasn’t much for conversation and what would he say to the Lion’s bride anyway. As they moved up the steps he noticed her unsteady steps and silently offered her his arm which she took with a smile. 

“Mah balance isnae wha’ it use to be” she laughed as the door opened and a butler appeared, giving her a nod. 

She lead him to the large study, one he hadn’t been in for many years, announcing his arrival like he was some sort of buggering knight. 

The Young Lion moved to her side, kissing her forehead before helping her to sit. Good, Sandor noted, at least she was cared for. If they were going to go to war he’d rather it be for something more than a pretty face and a pair of fine tits.

“Clegane” The Great Lion shook his head. “Thank you for coming.”

“Aye” Sandor gave a nod. “As long as I get first crack at my brother, I will fight whatever buggering war you want.”

“Perfect” Tywin smiled, ushering him inside where the imp handed him a glass of whisky as he joined them at the makeshift map table. 

Gods, Sandor chuckled at the sight. The whole of Scotland was lined up and ready to take down the King. This should be a bloodbath.


	10. Part 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for the delay on this, I had a few travel days that put me behind. Anyway, here it is!
> 
> This is for my haters.

Jaime stood on the porch with his wife, holding her tightly as the others mounted their horses and prepared to leave. 

“Be safe” she whispered against his chest. “And come back ta me.”

“I will be back as soon as I can” he promised her, kissing her briefly before touching her stomach. “If I am not back in time…”

“Mrs. Poole will take care of me, of us” she assured him, tears in her eyes. 

“I love you, Sansa.”

“I love ye, mo Jaime” she slipped the shawl from her shoulders and wrapped it across his chest, pinning it at his shoulder with the direwolf clasp. It wasn’t the grand plaid kilts of Robb or the other Lairds, but the message was clear enough; this man was a Stark. “Yer a Stark too, ‘usband” she smiled. 

With a final kiss he forced himself to walk away, leaving his wife on the steps with his brother and an older Scot named Jory Cassel who had fought beside Laird Stark for many years. She would be safe, and as soon as the battle was over he would be rushing back to her side. 

He smoothly mounted his horse and joined the others, turning back to see her one last time as they left the gates of Casterly Rock behind. 

They travelled east for nearly a moon’s turn where they met up with the armies of Stannis Baratheon and Lairds Stark, Mormont, Umber, Karstark before travelling south. They were not moving too far from Scotland, wanting to ensure they could prevent any attack from getting behind them and into the lowlands. 

As they moved, their numbers grew, any with Scottish sympathy joining their cause. Laird Eddard Stark had been a good man and he had fought for many people in his life. Now they would fight for him. By the time they set up their encampment their numbers had more than doubled. 

Word reached them that Robert and Joffrey were riding North to meet them, army at their back. It was nearly a moon’s turn later when they could see the men cresting the foothills, riders scouting them out for the King. 

“We will speak with the King tomorrow morning in the clearing” Tywin informed the commanders in the large tent. They had been waiting almost two moon's for this and would not go unprepared. “I will take Jaime as well as Stannis and Robb with a man of their choosing with us. If Robert is determined to take Scotland he will give us no choice.”

“And if Robert does not want to talk?” Stannis asked. 

“With our numbers, taking the throne by force will be no such problem” Tywin reasoned and Jaime felt his heart clench. War meant losses and he wanted nothing more than to return to his wife. He felt it in his gut that her time was coming soon and he hated that he would not be there to see his child enter the world. As a youth he had run to war as a chance to prove himself and now he ached only to be at the Rock with Sansa. 

For several hours the men talked about their plans for the following morning, soon heading back to their own men leaving father and son in the modest tent. 

“Jaime” Tywin said resolutely. “I will need your head here, with us, in order to make this work.”

“I know” Jaime nodded. 

“I know you want to be with Sansa, but this is a battle we must fight” Tywin continued. “It will not go away on its own.”

“The child---”

“That is Sansa’s battle, and she is fully capable” Tywin replied. “This is ours.”

“Alright” Jaime gave a nod, though he still wasn’t happy about it. 

“Get some rest,” Tywin clapped his shoulder and they parted ways until the morning. 

“Tell me” Tyrion asked Sansa as they ate a small dinner together. “How did you manage to tame the Young Lion?” 

“Ah Lit’l Lion” Sansa laughed softly, touching the swell of her stomach, now large enough to prevent her from reaching the table. “You’ll learn when you’re older” she smirked and Tyrion laughed loudly. 

“I underestimated you” he admitted, refilling his glass. “In the city, I overlooked you and I apologize.”

“You werenae the first,” Sansa replied. “Jaime, he did no” she added. 

“He saw the true gem” Tyrion lifted his glass, looking to his good sister with a smile. He did not truly see her in the capitol, not like this. He had been so focused on alcohol and disappointing his father that Lady Sansa Stark did not reach his radar. But his brother, who he had assumed was a shallow military man had seen the true gem hidden right before them all. 

Admittedly, Tyrion had wondered if Jaime had gotten Lady Sansa pregnant, hence the rushed nuptials, but that was clearly not the case. Jaime had shocked them all and simply fallen in love. Not that Tyrion could blame him. 

He frowned as he noticed Sansa rubbing her back, a grimace in place. 

“If y’ll excuse me” Sansa carefully stood. “I need tae lay down” she grimaced once more and made her way out of the dining room, Tyrion frowning after her. 

Jaime woke with a start, unsure of what had woken him until another shout reached him, men calling others to arms. 

“Shit” he cursed, dressing quickly as gunfire filled the air. It seemed like Robert would not be waiting until dawn after all. Still cursing he ran out into the chaos, seeing that Robert’s riders were invading, assuming they had the upper-hand and not realizing that an entire army lay on the other side of the foothills. 

Grabbing his rifle and sabre, Jaime joined the fray. 

_Sansa cried out, holding tightly to Mrs. Poole’s hand as another wave of pain passed over her. Her entire body ached, screamed for some sort of comfort and all she wanted was her husband. It was nearly dawn, the sun barely visible on the horizon and in the black of the morning she had never felt so alone._

_”Breathe, dear” Mrs. Poole assured her, rubbing her back softly as they waited for the midwife to arrive. Lord Tyrion, her good brother was in the hall, standing vigil as he had promised to Jaime but Sansa could only focus on the pain coursing through her._

“Stay your ground!” Stannis ordered and Jaime turned to see the cavalry coming over the hill, artillery with them. Soon Robert’s men were beaten back, cannon fire ripping through their lines. 

He turned in time to see Robb cut down a horse before slaying the rider, his fury palpable as he wore only a kilt, no shoes or shirt to fight these men off. 

They were everywhere, flooding the camp as artillery mowed them down, chaos and blood filling the night around them. 

_Mrs. Poole helped her to the wooden chair, placing a pillow behind her as she held back her screams. It seemed that her child was determined to arrive tonight, though earlier than expected, no less ready._

_“Alright dear” the midwife said, crouched at her knees and looking under her shift. “You are quite ready” she continued. “When the pain comes again I need you to push.”_

_“I cannae” Sansa cried, every nerve of her body firing in pain._

_“You can, dear” Mrs. Poole assured her, holding her hand._

_“I want Jaime” Sansa sobbed as pain consumed her as she did her best to bear down, push with all her might._

“Men on the hill!” Laird Mormont yelled as another wave of Robert’s men came over the hill, this time hesitating as they realized that the Scots were not entirely unprepared. 

“Robert!” Stannis’ bellow reached the entire camp as the king joined the fray, his son at his side. Clearly they had expected an easy victory. Robb Stark turned to face the king, fury on his face as he glared. The Highlander was covered in blood, terrifying in Jaime’s eyes and now he was focused on the man who had killed his entire family. 

“Ye bastard!” Robb bellowed into the night, turning in time to cut down Prince Joffrey’s horse. 

_“Breathe,” Mrs. Poole reminded her once more. “That’s is love.”_

_“Please” Sansa panted, holding to the housekeeper’s hand tightly._

_“Now push, m’lady” the midwife encouraged._

“Ye murdering bastard!” Robb barked once more, cutting down the Prince’s horse, sending the boy rolling to the mud. 

“Robb!” Jaime yelled, moving to blow Robert’s blow as the King turned to help his heir. 

“Ye fucker” Robb towered over the Prince who was crawling back on his hands and knees, eyes wide with fear. “Ye killed mah famileh!”

“Please!” Joffrey begged, scrambling across the dirt. 

“Fuck yeh!” Robb swung his broadsword and cleaved the boy in two, his war cry echoing across the lines. 

“NO!” Robert yelled, turning once more on Jaime and Robb. 

_“There he is” the midwife smiled as the babe slipped free of Sansa’s body, healthy and soon screaming into the room._

_“A son” Mrs. Poole smiled at her. “A healthy son.”_

_Sansa laughed, smiling at the red babe in the maids arms, “A son….Tywin...Ty.”_

_“A strong name” Mrs. Poole assured her._

_“Aye” Sansa agreed as she felt pain crest once more._

“He’s gone!” Tywin yelled at the fallen king who glared down at the Highlander who had cut down his heir. “You betrayed us---”

“You all betrayed the crown---”

“The crown murdered mah famileh!” Robb yelled. “I will see yeh dead!”

Robert glared down at them from his mount, his body too over-large to do anything about it if unmounted, “I am your king!”

“Any man who must remind us he is king, is no king!” Tywin countered as Stannis rode toward them. 

_“I told you, dear” Mrs. Poole said as a second babe joined the first, crying into the night air._

_“Another son, m’lady” the midwife smiled, handing the babe off._

_“Eddard... Ned” Sansa sighed, relaxing against the bed as her body throbbed in residual pain._

_“Fine names, love” Mrs. Poole wiped her with a cool cloth, the maids bustling about the room to clean the boys and return them to their mother._

“What have you become” Stannis asked his brother as their mounts danced around each other. “You murdered the Starks!”

“They would not return the boy!” Robert argued. “They were a threat!”

“And so you declared war” Stannis shook his head. “You fool!”

“This is my kingdom!” Robert’s words ended in a gargle as a shot filled the air and they all turned to see Robb holding his rifle high, fury clear in his eyes. 

Stannis watched his brother fall from his saddle, the large form of the once-king falling to the mud.

Jaime looked from brother to brother, seeing the relief in Stannis’ eyes at not having to fight his own brother. Robb had avenged his family, taking the throne back for a man of honor who would not march against his allies. 

“All hail King Stannis Baratheon” Laird Mormont’s voice was clear and loud as the last of Robert’s men fell around him. 

“Hail to the king!” everyone echoed. 

Jaime wiped the sweat from his eyes, noting that at some point he had hurt his shoulder and blood ran freely down his right arm. He looked to see his father standing proud and uninjured near Robert’s corpse. 

It was done, the capitol’s Baratheons were no more. 

Just then his blood went cold. 

“Cersei.”

_Sansa held her sons to her breasts, watching as they eagerly ate, both of them copies of their father with golden blonde hair and beautiful eyes she hoped would soon turn green._

_“They’re lovely” Mrs. Poole assured her._

_“Two sons” Sansa cried silently._

_“Yes, my dear” Mrs. Poole beamed. “I told you. Should we send word to Ser Jaime?”_

_“Nay” Sansa shook her head. “He will be home soon enough.”_

Jaime mounted his destier, Robb at his side as both men turned toward the Rock, heart’s racing as they spurred their mounts forward and back to the Rock.


	11. Part 11

Jaime rode like the Stranger was at his heels, heart racing as he crossed the country to get back to his wife. His father, Robb Stark and the Hound were at his side, the others had been left under Stannis’ command as they made for the Rock. 

He absently touched the plaid across his chest as he rode, the soft fabric reminding him of Sansa and he smiled to himself. Gods he loved that woman and soon she would be in his arms again, then he would never let her go.

Sansa was standing beside the wooden crib, watching her sons sleep with a smile on her face. They were beautiful, her boys, all golden hair and chubby cheeks. She had been scared of giving birth, terrified that she would not survive but Mrs. Poole had stayed at her side and helped her through it all. Her pain was short lived and now she had two sons, had given Jaime two sons, surely there was no better proof of love than that. 

Ty and Ned were fast asleep now, having just been fed, curled together in their bed. She had never imagined that being a mother would be this magical, to love someone so quickly was incredible. She loved holding them as they nursed, looking down into their eyes as her body cared for theirs.

She looked down at the wolves asleep near the crib, their cubs huddled near the fireplace, soaking in the warmth. Her boys would be protected, that was certain. 

Tyrion had already been to visit several times, marvelling at the ‘little lion cubs’ with a smile, mismatched eyes gleaming. He was already a doting uncle, sober more often than not these days since she told him he couldn’t hold his nephews if he was in his cups.

She couldn’t wait for Jaime to be home, she missed him terribly. She often thought on the smile that would cross his face when he saw his boys, the joy...

“Move! This is _my_ home!” the shrill voice sent a chill down her spine and she turned to the open door. 

Sansa looked to Mrs. Poole with a frown, “Ye keep them quiet an’ safe” she instructed before moving out of the masters chambers and pulling the door closed behind her. She looked to Jory who stood in the hall, “The Queen” she said softly and Jory’s face went stone cold. 

Jory and Freki followed, Geri stayed with the boys and cubs, as she made her way down the stairs to see where her majesty, Queen Cersei was arguing with Addam in the foyer. 

“Addam” Sansa said with a soft smile, sensing the man’s unease, placing a hand on his arm. 

“My lady” Addam frowned, moving aside. 

“You!” Cersei glared. The Queen looked a mess, frantic and ruddy. Drunk perhaps...

“Me” Sansa said, not caring to hide her brogue. “What are ye doin’ here?”

“This is my home!” Cersei repeated, her glare moving from Freki back to Sansa.

“Nay” Sansa shook her head. “Yer home is wit yer beast of a ‘usband.”

“Can you speak properly--”

“Nay” Sansa cut her off and the Queen fixed her with an emerald glare that would have once had her withering. She was no longer afraid of the woman before her, she was Lady Sansa Lannister now, a loved wife and a mother, she would not be trifled with. “This is my home and ye are nay welcome.”

“How dare you---” Cersei took a step forward and Freki growled deeply, moving close to Sansa’s side in warning.

“I am Lady Lannister, this is my home” Sansa explained. “And ye are nay welcome” she repeated. Cersei glared, her eyes full of fire as a large man came up the steps and through the front door, ducking beneath the jam. Sansa looked into the cold eyes of the man they called the Mountain and showed not an ounce of fear. 

“Ser Gregor” Cersei said calmly. “Remove this woman from my home.”

Gregor took a step forward and Freki snarled as Jory moved to confront the man, “Nay.”

The Mountain looked down at the smaller Scotsman and with a roar picked him up and threw him to the side, his body crashing through the bannister and falling limp to the stairs. The Mountain then looked back to Sansa and she remained impassive, unafraid. 

“Remove her and you can have her” Cersei said with a smirk and the man’s eyes darkened with lust as he licked his lower lip. Sansa felt her stomach roll at the thought of this man touching her. 

“No” Tyrion’s voice filled the foyer as he came in the back door. 

“Oh you’re here” Cersei looked to her younger brother. “I wondered where you had run off to, I figured you were buried under a score of whores.”

“You are not welcome here, Cersei” Tyrion said sternly. 

“This is my---”

“This is not your home” Tyrion motioned to Sansa. “Sansa is Lady of the Rock, not you.”

“I am the Queen, everything in this realm is MINE” Cersei yelled and the Mountain moved closer to Sansa. 

“No” Tyrion countered. “This is not your home.”

“Ser Gregor” Cersei sighed lazily. “Remove them both from my home.”

The Mountain moved now, striding forward to kick Freki aside with a large boot, the wolf’s welp filling the air as his large hand closed around Sansa’s neck, dragging her from the foyer and onto the porch. 

Sansa gasped for air, her hands clawing at the man’s arm as he carried her. She could hear shouting, arguing as her vision began to darken and just before she passed out a roar filled the air and she was dropped to the gravel of the drive. 

Jaime moved instantly to his wife’s side as Sandor attacked the Mountain, both large men growling as they fought. The drive was a raucous of clashing swords and traded insults as the brothers sought their revenge. 

Jaime’s heart had almost stopped when they rode through the gates to see Sansa being carried from the house by her throat and before Jaime could react, Sandor had focused on the Mountain and attacked. 

“Jaime” Sansa was weak against him, her neck an angry red that would surely turn to violent bruises. “Mo Jaime.”

“Wife” he pulled her close, nuzzling into her hair. As he hugged her he realized that her stomach held no swell, no babe. He had been away too long and he had missed the birth. He pulled back, glancing to her body with a hopeful smile. “Sansa--” his question died when Cersei emerged from the house, looking smug in her blue gown. 

“Jaime” Cersei smiled. “What a timely arrival” she moved from the porch towards him. 

“Cersei” Tywin’s voice cut through the chaos of the fighting brothers and her smug smile fell at their father’s tone. 

Sandor let out a warcry as his sword cut the Mountain’s head from his body, the corpse falling to a heap in the gravel and Sandor spit on the body, “Buggering cunt.”

Freki emerged beside Tyrion, the wolf slightly wobbly but unharmed, “Father” Tyrion glared at their sister. “I trust all went well.”

“I am sure by now King Stannis Baratheon is making his way to the capitol” Tywin said smugly. 

“What!?” Cersei screeched, going pale. 

“Your foolish husband attacked in the dead of night before we were to speak of peace” Tywin explained. “He underestimated the fury of Scotland and the Lannister-Baratheon armies.”

“I cut yer son down like spoil’d fruit” Robb chuckled, elbowing Sandor with a smile. “Kind o’ like ye did ta this fooker ‘ere!”

“Cersei---” Tywin started, moving to her side but she cut him off. 

“You Scottish bastard” she screeched. 

“I am no bastard” Robb’s smile fell. “Wha’ did ye expect when ye’ sent men to burn mah famileh? Ya daft cunt.”

“Family?” Cersei looked at his tartan, then to the one across Jaime’s own chest. 

“Aye” Robb replied. “Laird Robb Stark.”

“Cersei” Tywin tried to interject some calm once more but Cersei only shook her head, pulling a dagger from her sleeve. 

“Nay” Sansa pushed from Jaime’s arms faster than anyone could react, grabbing Cersei’s raised arm before she could plant the dagger in their father’s chest. Jaime watched as Cersei then tried to stab Sansa but his fiery Scottish wife was much stronger and in a deft move she wrenched Cersei’s wrist back and the dagger found home in the Queen’s chest. 

“I taugh’ her tha” Robb beamed with pride as the Queen sank to the gravel, Sansa standing over her with a glare. 

Sansa held his hand as they entered the master’s chambers, the others and a now conscious Jory seeing to the bodies in the front before they bathed and cleaned up. Mrs. Poole stood as they entered, relief on her features as she gave a small bow and excused herself. 

“Jaime” she smiled, guiding him to the crib beside their bed. “Eddard and Tywin Lannister, second o’ their names” he felt tears in his eyes as he looked at the two babes who stared back with curious eyes. 

“Sons” he marvelled. “Mrs. Poole was right, then.”

“Aye” she picked up the boy on the right and handed his small form to Jaime. “Tywin, yer firstborn” she smiled up at him. “I call ‘im Ty.”

“Gods” Jaime watched the boys small arms flail a bit before settling. “I love you, Sansa” Jaime leaned forward to kiss her softly before she picked up Eddard. Two sons, his wife was a miracle. 

“I love ye” she replied softly. 

“And you are well?” he asked belatedly. 

“I am” Sansa assured him. “Mrs. Poole was wit me, has been helping me ta learn about bein’ a mother. I have no’ employed a nurse, I will care for them mahself.”

“You are an incredible woman, wife” he kissed her once more, the bundle in his arms squealing with delight. “And you” he looked to Little Tywin and Ned with a smile. “Both of you are going to be absolutely spoiled.”

Sansa and Jaime found Tywin in the study before dinner, after sharing their first private moments with their children. They were a family now and she was so grateful that he was home. Tonight she would be able to sleep beside her husband once more, to make love to him and renew their passion together. 

“Papa” Sansa smiled, carrying her first born to the imposing form of the Great Lion. “Tywin Lannister, second o’ his name an’ Jaime Lannister’s first born son” she watched the Duke smile down at the small babe, awe in his emerald eyes. 

“Tywin is he?” he gave a nod. “A strong name.”

“An’ Eddard Lannister” she nodded to Jaime who had joined them, Little Ned in his arms. “Second o’ his name an’ Jaime Lannsiter’s second born son.”

“Gods” Tywin laughed softly. “Two sons, what a feat.” She carefully transferred Little Tywin to his grandfather’s arms, his blue eyes looking up at the older man with curiosity. “Another fine Duke I should think” he said to his grandson. 

Sansa smiled as Tywin moved to sit in the wingback chair beside the fire, settling Little Tywin on his arm before he motioned for Ned. 

“Kidnapping my children already” Jaime laughed, handing his father the second boy. 

“These are my grandsons, Jaime” Tywin reasoned. “The Lannister legacy.”

“O’ course” Sansa agreed with a smile. 

“There now” Tywin nodded. “We’ll have to talk to King Stannis about a lordship for you, young man” he said to Little Ned. 

Jaime sat in the chair beside him and pulled Sansa onto his lap. She sighed, relaxing against him, surrounding herself in his warmth. 

“I love you” he whispered against her hair. 

“Tha gaol agam ort, mo Jaime” she promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue left! <3 Thank you all SO much for sticking with me!


	12. Part 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading and staying with me! I love all of you! This is the last chapter for 'Alliance'! I am sad to see it go but alas, we have reached the end. I have another Jaimsa one shot, 'Every Sin', that I posted last night if you care to read it, as well!
> 
> I won't be idle long, up next I will be hitting you with some Stansa love!

_Ten Years Later_

“Fuck” Sansa purred against her husband's neck, clinging to the broad planes of his shoulders as he took her. She was barely on the edge of his desk, her skirts pushed up around her hips and her legs around his waist. 

She had come into the study to tell him that the children were away for a few hours and she wanted to tempt him to bed. He hadn’t wanted to wait that long. He had pulled her to his desk and within minutes was inside her. 

His hands carded back into her hair, guiding her to kiss her deeply, sinfully as he moved his hips. She had always loved the way he felt inside of her, the way he loved her. They had been married just over ten years now and she couldn’t imagine a more wonderful life. 

She could tell by his muttered curses against her lips that he was close, taking her mercilessly now as things fell from the desk and clattered to the floor. “Mo Jaime” she whispered, her lips ghosting over hers. 

“Don’t you do that” he warned. 

“Tha gaol agam ort, mo Jaime” she ran her hands up his shoulders and into his hair. 

“Fuck” he swore, his legs shaking as moved. 

“An duine agam, Jaime” she whispered. My husband, Jaime. As if a switch had been flipped his hips pistoned harder and faster. She choked on a gasp, leaning back to brace her hands on the desktop. He held her hip with one hand while the other teased the bundle of nerves within her folds, rubbing and stroking her until she was screaming his name in pleasure.

“Fuck” she felt slam deep and then jerk, cursing loudly as he filled her. He gave a breathless laugh, pulling her into his arms to kiss her softly. “We still have a few hours” he promised. 

“Aye” she smoothed his hair from his face. It had grown in the country and she rather preferred his longer golden locks to those kept in town. “Papa Tywin should last a’ least a few hours” she laughed. 

“The Great Lion, winner of wars and maker of Kings” Jaime laughed. “Defeated by his 5 grandchildren.”

“6 soon,” she smiled, having planned to tell him at some point during their time alone.

“Gods” he laughed, kissing her deeply. “6 children.”

“Mah ‘usband is a virile man” she replied simply. 

“Damned right I am” he agreed. “Now, if you find it agreeable, I am going to carry you upstairs so we can continue to make the most of our afternoon of solitude.”

“I find tha’ most agreeable, Mo Jaime” she gave a lecherous smile. 

Jaime sat in a leather chair beside his father in the large sitting room, both of them watching the boys who had set up an odd sort of ‘war’ with their toys. From a glance Jaime could see that the wooden soldiers outmatched the stuffed animals, but he couldn’t be sure. Sansa was on the rug with the younger children and he couldn’t help but smile at his wife. 

Geri and Freki lay near the window, always standing guard in case one of the children needed them. Their pups were now grown, wandering in and out of the estate as they pleased. Jaime smiled, realizing that soon there would be a pup for every cub.

After Ty and Ned came a girl, golden and beautiful. They named her Catelyn, Catie for short and she was every inch a fiery Scottish woman in a Lannister form. Where Ty was Papa Tywin’s shadow, Catie was a Daddy’s girl and was always content when he held her. She was nearly 8 now and had Jaime wrapped around her finger. Jaime could never resist her bright green eyes. 

After Catelyn was another daughter, Joanna, who had her mother’s rich auburn hair and the Lannister emerald gaze. Tywin had immediately decided she would be a princess someday, her beauty unmatched and Sansa had laughed and said ‘Or perhaps a general, commanding great armies.’

Their youngest, a son named Brynden, was just over a year old and took after his older brothers, following Papa Tywin around the house. He wondered now if their sixth would be a boy or a girl, perhaps a boy with fiery hair to balance out all the blonde, maybe? 

Looking to his father, whose hair was now all white now rather than blonde, Jaime smiled at the happiness in the Great Lion’s eyes. It had been a long road, filled with sadness and pain, but they were all here, safe at the rock. 

Tyrion would arrive soon, surely, but spent most of his time in the capitol helping King Stannis Baratheon as master of coin. Stannis had proven to be a fair and just ruler, exactly what the realm had needed after the previous Baratheons. With Ser Davos as his hand, it allowed Tywin to return home to be with his family. Jaime knew that Tywin would not readily admit it but he would guess that his father rather liked being the doting grandfather. 

Robb too would occasionally visit, but he was busy ruling the whole of Scotland from a newly rebuilt Winterfell. He and Sansa were always exchanging letters with news or gossip.

“There’ll be another, soon” Jaime told his father softly, motioning to where the children played. 

“Gods” Tywin gave an odd sort of scoffing laugh. “It is a good thing Casterly Rock is such a large estate, or we would not have room for all these lions.”

“You say that as if you wouldn’t have torn down and rebuilt the house in an instant if we needed it” Jaime laughed. 

“I would” Tywin gave nod. 

Jaime’s attention was diverted when Joanna made her way to him, crawling into his lap, “Look” she handed him the illustrated book about horses and dragons that she had absconded from the nursery. At age 5 she was already fascinated with horses and they made trips to the stables so she could pet them and feed them treats. 

“Now that is a big horse” he pointed to the dragon in the page. 

“That is a dragon!” she laughed, shaking her fiery curls. 

“I am sorry to say that we do not own one” he laughed, kissing her forehead. 

“You can own one?”

“Not for a very long time, they have left the world forever” Jaime replied. 

“Oh” Joanna nodded then moved to her grandfather’s lap. “Papa Tywin can you buy us a dragon?” she smiled. 

“Gods” Jaime laughed, looking to Sansa who was watching the exchange with great amusement. 

“Ye spoil them” Sansa laughed. 

“That is my duty as their grandfather” Tywin replied with a smirk. “And us Lannisters take our duty very seriously.”

“Aye” Sansa laughed softly. “Ye were the one who tol’ ‘im to make heirs!” she laughed. 

“Yes, I was” Tywin admitted. “Though I did not expect my son to actually listen to me.”

“I always listened to you” Jaime interjected but Tywin fixed him with a stare. “Some of the time…”

“Wife” Jaime whispered, staring at her across the pillow. She smiled back, blue eyes vibrant in the firelit room. “I am grateful every day that you ran away with me” he told her. 

“As am I” she replied. “Ten years an’ 5 children later, I never imagined I would be this happy.”

“6 soon” he smiled. 

“Aye” she laughed softly, moving closer to snuggle against him. “I love ye.”

“I love you” he ran his hands over her bare back, smoothing over the flesh he had memorized years ago. Her once too thin frame was now the lush body of a goddess, rounded and smooth. She had given him 5 children, fed them from her breast, his wife was a warrior, through and through. 

He kissed her softly at first, her sigh giving him all the encouragement he needed to wrap his arms around her and roll her beneath him. Her long legs wrapped around his waist as her hands went to his hair, nails trailing across his scalp. He could tell that she liked his hair a bit longer, as her hands usually found their way into the locks. He did not mind a bit. 

“Jaime” she whispered as he slid a hand between them to find her already soaked for him. “Please” she pleaded in that thick brogue of hers that he still couldn’t resist. Even though they had spent the better part of the day naked in this very bed, he still wanted her again. And again. 

He aligned himself and sank into her waiting channel, both of them groaning at the sensation of being joined once more. They made love slowly, neither of them in a rush to be parted. Sharing deep, languid kisses as he rocked within her, hands roaming bare skin at their leisure. 

“Sansa” he whispered her name like a prayer, over and over as they climbed. He watched her crest, her head lolling back into the pillow as her fingers dug into his shoulders. She was a goddess and watching her find her pleasure was something he would never tire of. She cried out, gasping as her body clenched around him. “Fuck” he tried to keep moving but his body had other plans, following her over the peak and into bliss. 

“Mo Jaime” she held him in place above her, not wanting him to go just yet. 

“Run away with me” he kissed her softly, remembering the first time he spoke to his fiery beauty. 

“Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picset is viewable [HERE](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/186459746866/alliance-regency-au-jaime-sansa-and-a-unique/)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr for pic sets and more shenanigans!  
> @the-red-wulf or https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/


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